Shadows
by ArtificialImagination
Summary: She has heard a whisper say, a curse is on her...
1. Death and the Lady

A/N: So, I've finally done it. I've started my first long Tom/Ginny story.

And in starting it, I have realized that I DESPERATELY need to reread the series. Like, now.

Alright, so about the story. There's no plot. At least for now. See, I kept telling myself that I ought to write a full-length T/G fic, but I wanted to have it all planned out. But since I hated all my plans, I never came up with a story.

Finally I gave up, said 'screw it', and wrote this with no plan at all. Some of my stories have worked well without any solid plans. So I hope this will come out alright.

Actually, after reading this I've noticed that it has a lot of the same themes as Willow Song and Cinderella and Persephone, and I think in the future it'll have a touch of Fatal. So I guess I'm plagiarizing myself?

Oh, and I'm looking for a better title. So if you have a suggestion, please don't hesitate to tell me! I'd be most grateful.

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling. The Lady of Shalott is owned by Tennyson.

**Dedication:** Lacarnum Inflamarae. Thank you for reviewing my Tom/Ginny one-shots so thoroughly, and for saying that it was a shame that I didn't finish any novel length fics. It was that comment that got stuck in my head chanting 'Just write a long one already!' again and again and again. I hope this is at least moderately amazing.

Enjoy. I hope.

* * *

"_So Ginny poured her soul out to me, and her soul happened to be exactly what I wanted…I grew stronger on a diet of her deepest fears, her darkest secrets. I grew powerful, far more powerful than little Miss Weasely. Powerful enough to start feeding Miss Weasely a few of _my _secrets, to start pouring a little of _my _soul back into _her_…"_

Tom Riddle, Chamber of Secrets

* * *

**AFTER THE FINAL BATTLE**

Nothing.

Silence.

Emptiness.

It was not dark or light.

There was no hot, there was no cold.

There was no life, there was no death.

There was no joy, there was no suffering.

There was no being, there was no thinking, there was no feeling, and there was no speaking.

Purely nothing.

But, slowly, _something_ formed.

_He_.

He could not feel a physical body. There was no heart beating, no breath drawn. He was mist.

But he could think.

This was familiar.

He'd died, and he'd returned. This had happened before.

But before, he did not _feel so much._

Before he'd felt anger and hatred and the longing for life and revenge.

But now…

He still longed for life. He still felt hatred and anger. He still wanted revenge.

But what was this other, warm and painful thing?

Before he had a chance to explore it, he _heard._ This, also, was unfamiliar in this state. Last time it had taken ages to use senses.

But now he heard a soft sighing. A girl crying. A familiar girl.

And now, thinking of her, he saw her. Not with eyes, but with his thoughts.

The soft skin. The red hair. Her eyes were closed, and she lay across something. A corpse.

Not his.

A sharp pain, though he had no body to feel with.

None of this was familiar.

_**What is this?**_ His thoughts hissed.

The girl looked up suddenly, pale, looking about herself in a panic.

She had heard him.

_None of this was familiar_.

But – perhaps – he could use it to his advantage.

* * *

"_I am half sick of shadows," said_

_The Lady of Shalott. _

- Tennyson

* * *

**A YEAR LATER**

"'I am half sick of shadows'," Ginny quoted as she watched smoke curl in the moonlight. The candle below the silver air had almost burnt out, though it still gave out the faint scent of wine and roses. She loved the romantic scent. It almost replaced the lack of romance in her life.

It wasn't that she was unhappy with Harry – quite the opposite. She loved him. He loved her. They made each other happy. They had talked of marriage often, though they were both still young. They dreamed of a small house in the country, with a white fence and a small garden, and two or three children running about, playing happily as they watched on.

But reality was always in the way of their dreams.

After the final battle, everyone wanted time with Harry Potter. The Daily Prophet, the Ministry, the aurors. He had spent the year in a whirlwind of advice, pleas, offers and interviews. She barely saw him at all, which made becoming engaged difficult. She waited patiently, though. She knew that things would settle down in the near future, and that future would be worth the difficulty of the present.

Things were, indeed, difficult for her. Fred's death and shaken her family. Their close ties threatened to break apart, even with the return of the prodigal son. George wouldn't speak to Percy at all, which wounded Percy's pride. He also wasn't getting along with Bill or Charlie, since they still blamed him for making their family miserable for so long. The oldest siblings both led separate lives far away, anyway, and didn't spend any time at home. Percy threatened often to leave again, and to only ever write to their parents and to Ginny.

Other then problems of the heart and her family, Ginny was having…mental problems, as well.

Often, out of the corner of her eye, she would see a shadow of Tom Riddle. Not of the reptilian Lord Voldemort, but the young, charming and handsome man she'd written to in a diary so many years ago. Sometimes she could even swear that she heard his voice.

At first, she'd blamed it on grief. Fred was gone, and Lord Voldemort dead. Though she hadn't cared for the Dark wizard, really, she had cared for the illusion she once had of him. She thought that perhaps that was why her mind would create his voice in her head, speaking words that rarely made sense to her.

But it had been a year now, and still sometimes she would hear a whisper.

"'She has heard a whisper say: a curse is on her if she stay to look down to Camelot'," she quoted again, and then leaned forward to blow the candle out. That's what she heard whispered to her often. Not about Camelot, but about her hopes for a life with Harry, and about her dreams that one day she would wake and her family would be healed from the wounds caused by the war. The whisper would tell her that she would only be miserable with Harry, that it was impossible that her family would ever be the same again. That she was cursed to always live in misery if she stayed there, waiting for things that might not ever be. It told her how like the Lady of Shalott she was, meant only to see such hopes as reflections…never as reality.

Ginny had never told anyone about this voice. Not Harry or her family or even her best friends Hermione and Luna. She knew they wouldn't understand. Well, Luna might. But it didn't matter, because she honestly believed there was nothing that could be done. She had tried what she could, spells and potions she thought would be safe for her to try…but nothing had worked. Nothing ever stopped the whispers or the shadows. Maybe it was something she would have to learn to live with for the rest of her life. That thought terrified her.

Standing from her place beside the window, she slowly walked to her bed and pulled back the sheets. She was very tired; reflecting on her grief, fear and misery always made her tired.

She slipped her small feet under the warm blankets and made sure her wand was on the table beside the bed. Reassured, she rested her head against her soft pillows. As she drifted to sleep, she heard a whisper say:

_**I have always pictured Persephone with red hair.**_

* * *

_The mirror crack'd from side to side;_

"_The curse has come upon me," cried_

_The Lady of Shalott. _

- Tennyson

* * *

In the morning, she woke to see her mirror cracked from side to side.

"I can't be the Lady of Shalott," she murmured to herself. "She was cursed to remain in her room, weaving, and it was only if she looked at reality – if she looked away from her mirror to see the real world instead of it's reflection – that she died…" What of that was not her? Was she not cursed to wait in her room, seeing mere reflections of the reality she longed for? "If I see my dreams come true, become real…I will not die."

_**Death is not the loss of a body, but the loss of the ability to live.**_

Ginny shook her head, slipping out of bed and getting to her feet. She picked up her wand, and looked into the broken mirror.

"I am not the Lady of Shalott," she told her cracked reflection, ignoring the shadow behind her. "I am Ginny Weasely."

And she was insane.

* * *

**Artificial: **Well, I hope you liked the first part. I kept debating whether or not I should separate the two bits – Tom and Ginny – but finally I decided to just leave it be. If you have any comments, suggestions, complaints…please leave a review. Actually, leave a review anyway. Thanks.


	2. Shikoba

A/N: This is the chapter where you really start to see that I haven't read the books in while. The characterizations are a bit off, I'm sorry. I've started rereading the series and hopefully things will get better from here.

Also, please note that this chapter is almost entirely taken from my one-shot The Willow Song (though it is a rewritten, alternate version). I promise I won't rip myself off so much in the future.

Enjoy anyway!

* * *

"Where's Harry gone?" Ginny asked, making her way down the stairs. Harry had been spending most of his time at the Burrow, since he was no longer allowed with the Dursley's and he didn't want to spend time alone at Sirius's old house.

"Some interview or other," Ron grunted. He hadn't been so happy about spending less and less time with his best friend, who was torn between work and Ginny. He got to spend less and less time with Hermione, too, who was off exploring job offers of her own. Ron had been given a number of opportunities, but had turned them all down. It had seemed like a good idea at the time (since he wanted a break after saving the world) but now he was left at home with nothing to do but attempt to not fight with Percy, which wasn't easy for the hot-tempered boy.

"Oh," Ginny replied softly, sitting at the table to stare down at the food. Her stomach growled impatiently, and she poured herself a glass of pumpkin juice and sipped it slowly, attempting to settle her upset stomach down without actually having to eat anything. The idea of food made her feel a little ill. How strange, to feel both ill and hungry at the same time.

But she couldn't dare let herself eat anything. On her way downstairs she had heard '_Persephone was trapped in the underworld for eating pomegranate seeds. How much will it take to trap you?'_. And though she was fairly certain that eating her mother's cooking wouldn't trap her anywhere, she didn't want to take the risk.

"Ginny," Molly Weasely entered the room with a large smile. It was the same fake smile she'd had all year. "Good to see you up."

"Good morning," greeted Ginny, not making eye contact with her mother. She'd been so afraid that someone might be able to tell she was insane by looking in her eyes.

"What will you be doing today?"

"I was thinking of going on a walk," she replied, and then finished off her glass of pumpkin juice.

Molly nodded. "Good. Get some fresh air."

Ginny stood from the table and left the Burrow.

* * *

Ginny Weasely walked for what seemed hours or days or weeks, but what was likely only forty minutes. She soon arrived at an unfamiliar pond which had purple and yellow wildflowers growing around the edges, while three willow trees caused shadows across the water. Colorful ducks floated along the surface, along with a few geese and a pair of swans.

Ginny made her way through the tall grass until she stood under a willow tree. She took a seat on a small rock, and looked across the pond.

Soon, a small black-and-white diver came out of the water, looking curiously at Ginny. It carefully, slowly moved forward, its head tilted at a slight angle, accenting the curious look. Ginny sat perfectly still as she watched it approach, not wanting to scare the bird away. As it reached her feet it gave a low, mournful call. Ginny looked down at it.

"Hello," she greeted. It gave another call in response. She smiled. "Nice day, isn't it?" The diver flapped its wings. "Yes, I bet it's great for flying."

The diver sat at Ginny's feet, still looking cautiously at her but seeming a little reassured. Ginny carefully reached a hand down and patted its feathers, and the bird gave her a short song. As Ginny continued petting the diver, she talked.

"I didn't see any other divers out there. Are you alone?" she glanced back up at the water, but still could not see any others. "It must be awful, not having a family. I have one, though…it's rather broken. My brother died, you see. And another left us for a long time. So now everyone hates him." The bird looked at her sympathetically. "And what's worse….I think I've gone insane. I keep hearing voices, and seeing shadows. And I'm scared to tell them. And I'm just plain scared. And I want to be with Harry _so badly,_ but how can I when I keep hearing _his_ voice?" Everything was so confusing. All she wanted now was to be with Harry. But how could she let herself, when every day she would lie to him and tell him that the shadow she'd seen was nothing, that the voice she'd answered was just her own thoughts? She couldn't, not when she knew they were both…

Tom Riddle. That was the worst of it all. The shadow didn't look like Lord Voldemort, it looked like Tom. It sounded like Tom, the only real friend she'd had her first year at Hogwarts. The only one who truly listened. The only one that used her and tried to kill her.

Why couldn't she just forget him? Why hadn't she heard this voice after her first year? Why now?

She looked down at the diver as it sang another song, seemingly asking why she'd stopped talking. "I should give you a name, shouldn't I?" she was silent for a moment. "How about Shikoba? That means 'feather', right?" The diver seemed to nod. "Shikoba it is, then."

There was a deep, roaring sound, and then the sky opened up. A heavy rain suddenly began falling over the pond, and the ducks and geese began to find shelter under the trees. One particularly vicious-looking goose sat nearby her and Shikoba.

"…I think I'm ready to leave now," she informed her friend as the goose glared at her, and the rock she was sitting on. She screamed as it rushed her suddenly, biting her leg as she flew from the rock. It hopped on top of the rock, honked twice, and then settled down.

"Yes, it's time to go…" Ginny decided, and then took two steps out of the tree and then paused when she heard a soft, mournful song. She looked back at Shikoba, her heart breaking. It was silly, but she didn't want to leave her new friend. And it seemed the bird had no intention of being left behind. It ran from the goose, following Ginny out into the rain.

"You want to come home with me?" The diver flapped its wings.

Her family probably wouldn't approve, but that hardly mattered to Ginny. She just needed a friend, someone she could tell all her secrets to as she had the diary. She bent down, picked up Shikoba and cradled him in her arms as she ran for home.

* * *

The hard part would be finding a way to sneak the bird up to her room until she could explain what it was doing there.

She peeked into the downstairs and, not seeing anyone, rushed into the house and bolted up the stairs. She opened the door to her room, stepped inside and –

"Harry!" she cried with surprise. Shikoba flew out of her arms and landed on her bed, beside Harry.

"…you brought a bird home?"

"Yeah," she said, smiling sheepishly. She closed her bedroom door. "He was following me around and…well, I didn't want to leave him alone. There weren't any other divers out there…"

Shikoba sang in agreement, and Ginny winced, hoping no one else had heard.

"So you're adopting a wild bird?"

"Yeah," Ginny said, now feeling defensive. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"No," Harry responded quickly. "He's a cute…um, diver. Has a very, erm…_sharp_ beak."

"He's harmless," insisted Ginny, walking up and sitting on the other side of Shikoba. She patted Shikoba's wings and kissed the top of the bird's head. The bird settled in closer to her. "He's really very sweet."

"I – I'm sure," Harry stammered. "Just um, Ginny…why?"

"I told you," Ginny sighed. "It was alone, and it followed me…so I decided to give him a home." And a family.

"Oh," Harry shrugged. "What did your mother say?"

Ginny looked down to Shikoba. "Nothing yet. She doesn't know."

"Er." Harry sounded both relieved and worried. "Well, I don't think she'd-"

"Oh, _you!_" Ginny snapped, irritated. She stood from the bed and planted her feet firmly on the ground, shoulder's width apart, and then put her hands on her hips. "What do you care, Harry Potter? You're always gone! What do you care if I keep a bird or not? What do you care if I make a new friend? It's not as though _you_ ever spend time with me!"

She didn't mean those words, not really. They were a result of her fear that she was going mad, that she'd always hear Tom Riddle's voice in her head, and, yes, her loneliness. But though it was Harry who was always gone, it was her who separated herself from him, who distanced herself from him emotionally. Because she didn't want to hurt him, like Tom's voice kept telling her to.

Harry's face went solemn at Ginny's outburst. He slowly stood, too. "Look, Ginny…" he sighed. "I'm sorry I'm gone so often, really I am. If you like I can just take the day off tomorrow and we can go flying or something. I'll cut back on the meetings…you know I don't like them anyway."

Ginny sighed. "No, Harry," she stepped out of the defensive position, standing in front of him and taking one of his hands in each of hers. "Don't do that. I'm sorry I was mad…it's just all the family stress, really. I know how much those meetings and things mean to you and your career, even if you don't like them. I know thing will calm down soon and then we can be together more often."

"Thanks, Ginny," Harry sighed, relieved. "Are you sure about tomorrow, though? I really wouldn't mind-"

"I'm sure, Harry."

_**You feel lonely, Ginevra Weasley. Harry doesn't bring you happiness. Leave him and find someone who will.**_

Ginny winced, and then yawned, hoping Harry hadn't noticed. "I'm kind of tired, Harry…I think I'll take a nap."

"Are you okay, Ginny?" he asked, concerned. "You winced…"

"Just embarrassed that I have to take a nap like an old woman," Ginny laughed. "I'm fine."

"Okay…" Harry said uncertainly, heading for the door. "I'll see you later."

"Okay. Bye."

Harry opened the bedroom door. "Want me to talk to your family about the bird?"

"Shikoba," Ginny corrected. "And yes, if you could. I think you'd have a better chance at convincing them then I would."

Harry laughed. "Alright. Bye." He left.

Ginny sighed, collapsing on the bed. That had been a narrow escape. Harry was so sweet and caring, and she had been so close to…to…

That stupid voice! Why couldn't Tom leave her alone? He was dead! He was dead, and he was haunting her!

"Maybe it's a ghost…" Ginny whispered to herself, hopefully. But no. She knew ghosts, and they didn't whisper thoughts in your head. She wished Dumbledore were still around, maybe she could ask him…

"Of course!" Ginny exclaimed loudly enough that Shikoba fluttered his wings nervously. "I'll go to Hogwarts…Dumbledore's portrait…" But she paused uncertainly. She wasn't a student anymore, and it might be suspicious if she asked to go into the Head Mistresses office to talk to a portrait. At the very least, they'd want to know why. And what would she tell them? That she wanted relationship advice?

"Maybe I can just say I miss him…" But no. A lot of people missed Dumbledore, and they couldn't just let them all see his portrait. "Maybe I can sneak in." Floo Power might help. It was kind of risky, but it would be worth it.

It would take some planning, though. She would have to wait until she was alone and no one would miss her, and somehow find out when the office was empty. Oh, dear. That wasn't possible, was it? How could she know when the office was going to be empty?

Maybe she could write a letter. Not explaining what was happening, oh no, because someone would read it to him. But maybe just asking if there was a way she could speak to him in private.

…But that was the same as going to see him directly, wasn't it?

_**What a dreadful little circle you're in. Give up. There's no escaping me.**_

With a small sob, Ginny turned to her side, curled her knees to her chest, and slept.

* * *

Ginny woke hours later, feeling a gentle pecking at her arm. She groaned, but then slowly opened her eyes, rolling over to face a hungry Shikoba. Surprised at the darkness in her room, she looked at the clock. Oh dear. It was already past dinner-time…past bedtime, really. Everyone was probably already asleep in their rooms.

Shikoba gave a short call, likely trying to tell her that he was hungry. Ginny rolled out of bed, and then walked around it to pick her diver up. She headed carefully out of the room and downstairs, then to the kitchen where homemade bread rested on the counter. She tore off a large chunk, and then began feeding pieces of it to Shikoba who sat on the floor by her feet.

"I don't know why I slept so long," Ginny began a conversation. "I wasn't very tired."

In answer, Shikoba opened his mouth for another piece of bread. Ginny fed it to him.

"I guess this whole 'being insane' thing wipes me out more then I thought," she shrugged. "I wish there was a way I could figure things out better." And then she had a genius idea. "I've got it! Maybe I can ask Hermione to go to the library with me. Then I could look and see if any books have anything on…maybe hearing voices while stressed, or if it's some kind of magic…like a curse or something."

Shikoba seemed to like the idea, as he flapped his wings excitedly. Ginny fed him the rest of the bread.

"That's what I'll do," Ginny decided. "Tomorrow morning I'll ask Hermione to go to the library with me, and then I'll lose her there somehow and look it up. It shouldn't be too hard."

Cheered, she was suddenly starving. She found some leftovers and gorged herself on them, and then picked up her diver friend and carried him upstairs. She got back to her room and lit her candle, but soon her eyelids felt weighted down. The full stomach made her sleepy all over again. So she settled into bed with Shikoba content on the pillow beside her, and began drifting to sleep.

Before she began to dream, she heard a voice.

_**Divers can't walk on land.**_

* * *

Artificial: I discovered that little fact after I'd written the Willow Song. Oops?


	3. Fire and Ice

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the wait! I wrote the first part (before the scene jump) and then just got stuck. This chapter is fairly short because of my being stuck. I 'told' events instead of 'showing' them to get past the writers block, which is something I told myself I would never do again. But I did it anyway, so the chapter is pretty short. Hopefully that means there'll be less of a wait for the next chapter.

Just wanted to say thank you to my reviewers – springawakening1894, GoldenTresses91, Lacarnum Inflamarae, purpleumbrella and, of course, the amazing Laurenmlbc! You guys are all incredible, I can't say how much your reviews mean to me! They're what stopped me from quitting when I kept sitting here thinking 'I have no idea what to write next!'. I hope you all stick around after this chapter.

Disclaimers: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter, and I got the information on divers from the RSPB.

Well…enjoy!

* * *

_A small family of large water birds, with three species regularly seen in the UK (two of which breed) plus one rare vagrant from northern Asia (the white-billed diver). There is another similar species (the Pacific loon) in North America._

_All have long, slender bodies, moderately long necks and dagger-shaped bills, quite long but narrow wings and small legs (with long, lobed toes) set far back on the body._

_They are expert swimmers and divers but unable to stand or walk on land. All are migratory, breeding on freshwater lakes and pools but moving to the sea coast in winter._

So it was true. Divers _couldn't _walk on land. But then how was it that Shikoba was able to follow her out from under the tree? And why was it the voice of Tom Riddle wanted her to know that her bird was so unusual? No, not the voice of Tom Riddle…her illusion of him.

"No, it's not an illusion," she whispered to herself as she placed the library book back onto the shelf. It couldn't be an illusion, because she hadn't known that divers couldn't walk on land. How could her mind have spoken to her of knowledge it didn't have?

But that only meant…

Ginny shivered. She hadn't been able to find much on the subject of voices, other then things about schizophrenia and such. Nothing magical. Nothing about a dead wizard invading someone's mind. Nothing about a ghost haunting a person's body. But now she knew it had to be something like that. The voice really was Tom Riddle.

So that was why he'd wanted her to know why Shikoba was strange. So she would know that she wasn't delusional, that it really was him who told her to leave Harry or that she was the Lady of Shalott.

Speaking of which, she'd read through a book about the poem, and now she was even more confused. One of the themes of the poem – at least as far as Ginny understood it – was that in order to really live, you have to be able to die. That wasn't an idea that Lord Voldemort seemed to be particularly fond of.

_**But Lord Voldemort is dead.**_

"So are you," she responded.

That was it, Ginny decided. She had to tell somebody. Even if they thought she was crazy, they'd look into what was happening to her. Maybe someone could discover something…

"Hey, Ginny," Hermione approached her, a pile of books in her arms. "I'm ready to check out. Are you?"

_Tell her, _she told herself. _Just open your mouth and say it…'I hear Tom Riddle in my head'…_

"Yes," Ginny said, picking up the two books she'd placed at her feet (one on 'real and fictional hauntings', and the other a book a quotes she wasn't even sure why she'd picked up). "I'm ready."

She couldn't do it. She couldn't tell anyone what she was hearing. They'd lock her up forever.

Oh, how much she wanted to cry.

"Great," Hermione said. "What do you say we visit my house afterward to read? My parents would like to meet some of my old school friends, and we could order some food."

Ginny nodded, forcing a smile. "I'd like that."

-

Her time at Hermione's had been fun, though not very productive. They'd ordered tons of food she'd never heard of or otherwise had never tried (shrimp coconut curry, edamame, pita bread and tzatziki and mousakka were the most interesting) and talked about their Hogwarts adventures and old friends, and how stupid boys were sometimes, and all sorts of things. Then they watched a movie (Ginny forgot the title, but it was funny and romantic and had something to do with 'computers', 'email' and books) and ate until they were stuffed full, and then had some dessert (baklava). They played Wizard Chess, talked to Hermione's parents (who were very nice) and then made brownies the Muggle way.

But as a result of all that fun, Ginny didn't have a chance to open the books she'd gotten. And she hadn't had a moment to bring up her courage and tell Hermione that she thought Tom Riddle was in her head. So she was still at Square One.

She walked into the house, one hand carrying the books, the other hand carrying something that Hermione called 'Tupperware' filled with the brownies they'd made, or what was left of them. She carefully opened the door and heard a welcoming song from Shikoba. But a moment later, she could hear loud shouting coming from the family room. Ron and Percy were at it again, and her mother was begging them to stop fighting. She glanced into the room, but then quickly looked away and set the brownies on the kitchen table. Usually she'd join in trying to get the two boys to see reason, but right now she was emotionally exhausted. She'd leave the baked goods on the table and hope that when they were done fighting and walked in the kitchen and saw them there, they'd feel guilty for arguing so loudly they couldn't tell their sister was home. Or something.

Sighing, Ginny grabbed a brownie for herself and a piece of bread for Shikoba, tucked the books under her arm and headed up the stairs, the diver flying up the stairs and walking down the hall after her. She opened her bedroom door and let the bird walk in ahead of her, and then shut and locked the door. She sighed when she saw her room empty. She'd been half hoping that Harry would be waiting for her. But of course he wasn't. He couldn't be, he was at work! He was always at work!

She took in a deep breath to calm herself, and when that didn't work, she took a large bite of the brownie. While chewing, she gave bits of the bread to Shikoba. She watched him eat happily and wondered if her family had remembered to feed him.

"Shikoba," she started, after finishing the bite of brownie. "How is it you can walk on land, when you're not supposed to be able to?" The bird looked at her curiously for a moment, then opened it's mouth for another piece of bread. Ginny laughed softly and gave him the rest. As the diver ate, she rolled off the bed and onto her feet, then when to her window and lit the wine and roses candle, as well as a blue one that smelled like wildflowers. She leaned against the windowpane, staring out at the dark landscape, then swallowed hard.

She was about to do something she'd never done before.

_Tom?_ She sought him out for the first time. She waited a moment, nervously tangling her fingers together, but there was no answer. _Look, Tom. You wanted me to know you were real and here, in my head. Now I know. Answer me._

Ginny watched the sweet-smelling smoke rise from the candles and disappear into the air of the room. She began tapping her fingers against her leg, and counting the taps. She made it to fifteen before she decided to give up. It was a stupid idea, anyway. Why should she try and contact the person who was tormenting her? Who had been messing with her mind and twisting her memories since the first time she had met him, years ago in her first year? She didn't need to talk to him, she could figure it all out on her own, and she would –

She saw a shadow flickering out of the corner of her eye. She turned her head, only to see a dark shape disappear from her repaired mirror.

_**Yes, my Lady?**_

Ginny held her breath. No, no, this was a mistake.

_**Ask your question, Kore.**_

"I'm not Kore," Ginny insisted aloud, though she had no idea what 'Kore' meant.

_**Ask…your question,**_he repeated patiently. She took in yet another deep breath – it seemed she was desperate for oxygen this evening – and then moistened her dry lips with the tip of her tongue.

"Who are you, exactly?" she asked, but even as she said the words she could hear him 'speaking' over her.

_**That is not the question you wanted to ask.**_

She swallowed and tried again. "What do you want?"

_**Also incorrect.**_

"How are you-"

_**Remember, Ginevra. I can hear your thoughts as clearly as you can.**_

Oh, to hell with it.

"_Why_?" she finally shouted into the mirror, her reflection showing her eyes filled with tears and her fists clenched in anger. "Why are you doing this to me? Why do you hate me so much that even after you _die_ you won't leave me alone? Why do you continue to torture me, to invade my head and say horrible things to me, and mock me, and try to ruin things with Harry – is it to get to him? Because bothering me isn't getting to him! Haven't you done enough to me?" she took in a deep breath, but wasn't ready to stop yet. "You possessed me in my first year and – and – and broke my heart and destroyed my ability to trust for _ages_, and you hurt my friends, and get Fred killed! What did I do to make you hate me so much that you have to continue to haunt me after your death? Why? _Why?_" She wasn't shouting anymore, she was crying, collapsing to the ground and pushing her head into the hard floor and putting her hands over her head, digging her fingers into her bright red hair. She felt Shikoba approach her and settle down next to her, trying to comfort her in his own way.

There was silence in her head, and she didn't know if she was relieved or angry that he wasn't responding. It was odd – the first time she'd had a conversation with him since the diary.

_**Mignon McLaughlin, fifty eight, sixty two. **_

She stopped crying suddenly. "_What?_" she asked, sitting up. She looked around the room as though that would give a hint, but she had no idea who Mignon McLaughlin was, or what those numbers meant.

"What do you…mean…" her voice grew softer as her eyes locked with the books. The quote book. She stood carefully, stepping over Shikoba, and picked up the book. She flipped through it until she saw in small, bold letters at the top left corner of the page '**58**'. She skimmed the page for the name Mignon McLaughlin…and there it was.

_The hardest-learned lesson: that people only have their kind of love to give, not our kind. – Mignon McLaughlin_

Instead of letting herself try to understand that quote, she flipped forward to the next one.

_Hate leaves ugly scars, love leaves beautiful ones. – Mignon McLaughlin_

Well, first of all, she had to disagree with the last quote. Scars were scars, there was no difference between ones from hate and ones from love; they both ached the same. Perhaps scars from love hurt worse.

_**Exactly.**_

"No," was her reply. She couldn't think about what he was hinting, it was impossible, he was dead and evil and soulless. More then soulless, he'd intentionally cut his soul into pieces. It wasn't even possible that he was delusional enough to…to think that…he…

_**Lord Voldemort is dead.**_

She frowned, confused. What did he mean? Of course he was dead!

Ginny jumped and nearly screamed when the door opened. George stood there, holding a brownie, a small smile on his face. Those smiles were rare, and though she felt panic crushing her chest and confusion clouding her mind, she smiled back at him.

"Hey, Ginny," he said weakly. Loud noises from behind him told her that Ron and Percy were still arguing. "I just wanted to make sure you'd eaten one of these before I tried one." He nodded to the brownie crumbs on her bed.

"Why?" she asked.

"Because," he grinned. "You've spent way too much time with me." He winked, and she laughed.

"Don't worry, George…I'm not trying to turn the family into canaries."

"Right," he said. He hesitated, obviously wanting to say something else – probably about why she was on the floor, her hair tangled and her face red. But he decided against it. "Thanks for the brownies."

"You're welcome," she said, as he closed the door.

Suddenly, Ginny felt oddly serene, and exhausted. Probably thanks to her earlier breakdown. She barely managed to crawl on top of her bed covers before she fell asleep.

* * *

**Artificial:** I was a bit at a loss for what to name this chapter. If you have a better idea, please let me know! Thanks.


	4. Dark Clouds

A/N: I have no idea how it came to pass that I haven't updated since September, but there's life for you. I started and finished my first semester of college since then. My father trained and went to Iraq since then, and is coming back in a few months. Hopefully the next chapter will be out well before then!

Speaking of the next chapter, this one is really short, but it leaves off in the perfect place for the next chapter.

Thank you to all my readers and reviewers – you guys are amazing.

Hopefully this isn't too jarring. I think my writing style has changed a bit since…plus I'm really not paying much attention to the quality tonight. I just want to get this chapter uploaded. So it might suck, but whatever, it's here at last!

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter, and Mythology is by Edith Hamilton, the publisher is Warner Books.

Enjoy.

* * *

As Ginny slept, her candles continued to burn. Wax dripped down them, forming pools on her windowsill and dripping down the edge like a water droplet. The smoke from the candles curled high into the air, and the smell from the smoke, wax and the sweet smells of wine and roses and wildflowers filled her room. Hours after she'd fallen asleep, the flame on the blue candle began to grow as it ran out of wick, sparking bits of fire around it. One of the sparks touched the curtain, which caused a spark. That spark grew into a flame. The flame fed on the fabric and oxygen around it, slowly building until it was more then a single flame, but a bright fire that sent dangerous sparks around the room.

Smoke began to fill the small bedroom, and Shikoba woke, uneasy. It nudged it's sleeping mistress, but she didn't stir. She was deep asleep, lost in the kind of dreams that hold you down in them no matter how you try to escape. By the time she would wake, her bed could be aflame. The bird squawked, trying to wake her again to no avail.

From somewhere above Ginny, soft thunder sounded. The air above her bed began to swirl and then to form white clouds that turned to silver, grey and then nearly to black. Heavy raindrops fell from the clouds above her, putting out the fire and soaking everything but the books and the bed, including Shikoba and Ginny. The flames gone, the storm dispersed and the thunder rolled one last time. A bright flash of lightning and it was over.

While Ginny slept, she had pushed her blankets to the foot of her bed. Now her quilt seemed to float along the surface of the bed and around Ginny's body, protecting her from the now chilly air in her room. Ginny groaned, and then rolled from her left side to her right. Shikoba curled up beside her and fell back asleep.

* * *

Ginny woke the next morning, blinking from the sun streaming in through her window. Odd, she thought the curtains had been closed…she turned her head to glare at them, and sat up suddenly when she noticed that half of one was missing. Further examination showed the evidence of rain everywhere but her bed and bookshelf.

She threw the quilt off of her and leapt out of bed and then ran her hand over the ledge of her window, feeling it still slightly slick, like the floor beneath her bare feet. Her candles were almost completely – oh. _Oh. _She'd been so exhausted, she left the candles burning all night. They must have caught the curtain on fire. And then…what? Had she cast some sort of spell in her sleep?

_**You are not quite that powerful yet, dear Kore. **_

Ginny's eyed widened. For a little while, she'd almost forgotten all about _him._

"Wait…" she mouthed the words more then said them. But that didn't matter; he clamed to hear her thoughts anyway. "Did you – did you st…?"

_**Start the fire? Or stop it?**_

"Start," she said, but immediately shook her head. "Stop. Both?"

_**Why would I both start **_**and **_**stop the fire? **_

"Stop, then," Ginny decided, staring blankly out her window and the wide open field that was filled with sunshine. "Did you put it out?"

_**Yes, I did.**_

"But…why?" she asked, genuinely confused as to why the Dark Lord would put out a fire in her bedroom, after all the rest he'd done to her. There was a long silence, and Ginny reached up to touch the bottom of what was left of her curtain. The blackened edge of the curtain fell into her hand and turned to ash.

The voice of Tom Riddle did not answer. She sighed, rolled her eyes. He had been lying. He must have started the fire. Voldemort would never –

_**Lord Voldemort is dead.**_

"Would you stop saying that!" she exclaimed, bringing a fist down on the ledge.

"Stop saying what?" came a confused voice behind her. Ginny whirled around to face Ron.

"Nothing," she said quickly. "Um, I just keep thinking about a fight I had with – with Percy. What is it?"

Ron shrugged. "Harry, Hermione and I are headed to the Ministry today for another interview about what happened. D'you want to go? We could all meet up afterward, maybe go to Diagon Alley."

She desperately wanted to say yes. She hadn't been out in ages, and to see Harry would be wonderful. But as she opened her mouth the reply, a chill overtook her. She'd seen Tom Riddle's outline in her mirror out of the corner of her eye. She turned to look as her mirror, and instead of the image disappearing as it always did, it solidified. For a brief second, she looked directly into Tom's eyes. He winked, and disappeared.

She must have turned white, because Ron's eyes narrowed and lines appeared between his brows. "Gin? You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," she forced out, but it wasn't very convincing. This was getting worse. Soon she wouldn't be able to go out at all…maybe she couldn't already. "I think I'll skip this one. I'm not feeling very well."

Ron nodded. "Okay. See you later." He turned, but then paused and turned back, staring at her floor. "Hey, Gin, why's your floor all wet?"

Ginny swallowed. "I was um…mopping. You know, the muggle way."

Ron raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"It helps me think," she responded quickly. "You better go and meet Harry and Hermione."

Ron just nodded, and closed the door behind him. She listened to his foot steps as he walked away, and once he was down the stairs she turned to face the mirror.

"Why do you keep doing this to me?" she demanded. "Why are you trying to isolate me, to drive me crazy?"

_**You know that already, Kore.**_

"Stop calling me by everything but my real name!"

_**I've called you your name before, Ginevra. **_

"That's not the point," she said, practically growling. She walked to the dresser and planted her hands atop it, staring into the mirror as though staring into Tom Riddle's face. "Why do you keep talking in code, Tom? Why don't you talk to me straight?"

No response. How irritating.

"Fine, I'll go figure out your little code," she spat, turning around and heading out the door. "And then I'll figure out how to get rid of you once and for all."

* * *

Finally, after four hours searching the library, she found it.

It was inside an old, worn copy of a book called _Edith Hamilton's Mythology._ At first the only thing she'd found was 'Kora', but after talking to a librarian she discovered that 'Kore' was another name used for the same person (and that 'kore' meant 'young maiden').

The reference for 'Kora' in the book led to 'Persephone', another name Tom talked about often. First she read the story of Persephone from the point of view of her mother, Demeter. This was not terribly interesting, but it gave the basics. Persephone had been a young goddess, who was out playing in the fields when she was kidnapped suddenly by the Lord of the Underworld, Hades. She was forced into marriage with him, and when the King of the Gods, Zeus, ordered Hades to return her, he tricked her into eating a seed of a pomegranate. She was then condemned to living in the Underworld for four months of every year, since the food grown in the Underworld was cursed. So she spent part of her life with her mother at Olympus, and part trapped in the Underworld with her husband.

The only part that reminded her at all of Tom was the part where Persephone was sometimes referred to as 'the maiden whose name may not be spoken'. But Tom seemed to find other things he liked, repeating them in her head after she'd read the passage.

" _**Her husband knew he must obey the word of Zeus and send her up to earth away from him, but prayed her as she left him to have kind thoughts of him and not be so sorrowful that she was the wife of one who was great among the immortals.'" **_He quoted after she'd flipped back to the index, searching for more about Persephone.

She didn't even attempt to understand. She knew that if she told him toe stop speaking in code, he would stop speaking to her altogether. Which would be nice if it was permanent, but he would reappear at some inopportune time. It was better to keep him talking and try to find some clue about how to get rid of him.

_**Admit that the reason you refuse to think on my comments it because you are afraid.**_

"Afraid of what?" she whispered back bitterly, glancing around to be sure no one could overhear her.

_**Afraid of their meaning. Afraid of what it **_**means **_**for me to speak them.**_

"Like what?" she said, but still, at the edge of her mind she remembered the two quotes she had read the night before. But she refused to pay attention to them, to give them any weight. They were just words, words that were meaningless to someone as heartless as he was.

_**Lord Voldemort was heartless. **_

"Lord Voldemort is dead," she whispered, knowing it was coming. "You are dead."

_**I am not ghost, nor Inferi, nor a portrait. How am I speaking to you if I am dead? **_

"I don't know," Ginny admitted, slamming her book closed. "That's what I'm trying to figure out."

_**Maybe you should ask Hades.**_

Ginny rolled her eyes, deciding she was finished with pointless discussions with dead dark wizards inside her head. Besides, Shikoba would be hungry by now. It was time she went back home.

* * *

**Artificial: **I really hope you guys come back for this chapter. I'll kick myself if you don't!


	5. Hades

a/n: So I can't believe this story has been up for over a year and only had six five chapters. It doesn't feel that long!

Well, forgive me! My blame for this is a long, confusing story that basically ends with 'and I didn't have internet for several months'. The good news is I did do some writing during that time, so this chapter and the next are ready to go, though I'm going to give a short time between chapters. Mostly so I can go through and make it better, haha.

Well...enjoy.

* * *

Ginny sat under a tree in the front yard, feeding pieces of bread to Shikoba between bites of her own sandwich. _He_ was quiet for now, thank goodness. She was enjoying her well-deserved break from him, legs stretched out ahead of her, her face tilted upward towards the unusually clear sky and the bright sunshine. Shikoba sang now and then, seeming to answer other birds that chirped as they flew by high above them. A cool breeze blew the red hair off her neck. She was tempted to go inside and change into the muggle clothing Hermione had given her…the 'tank top' and 'jeans'.

She threw another piece of bread in Shikoba's direction then leaned her head against the soft bark of the tree, closing her eyes and sighing contently.

Of course something would come to interrupt it.

"He really was the most difficult person!" exclaimed Hermione. Ginny opened her eyes, seeing Harry, Ron and Hermione in front of her, getting ready to head to the Burrow. They all had a frustrated look about them, as though they'd just spent the last hours slamming their heads into a concrete wall.

"Hey," she greeted, but didn't bother to stand up.

"Hey, Gin," grinned Harry, slipping his hands into his pockets. "How're you?"

"I'm good," she smiled. "Meeting go well?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Real well."

Hermione reached down and patted Shikoba's wings. "We're thinking about going to Diagon Alley, do you want to come with?"

"Yeah, come with us, Ginny," Harry said, grinning. "Maybe you can cheer us up."

Ginny laughed and opened her mouth to answer –

_**If you go with him, I will recite **_**the Lady of Shalott**_**, every word of it, nonstop for three days! Even while you sleep I will repeat each phrase **_**passionately**_**. **_

She stopped, paled. Closed her mouth. She desperately wanted to go with them…it had been _so long_ since she'd hung out with them, the whole gang together. It would be fun, and she desperately needed fun.

Three days without a single break. She wouldn't be able to take it.

"I'm tired," she said weakly. "I think I'll just take a nap."

They frowned collectively.

"Are you sure?" asked Harry. The disappointment was clear in his voice. So was the suspicion.

Ginny nodded. "Yeah."

"Fine," sighed Ron, heading towards the Burrow.

Hermione laughed lightly. "Cheer up, Ron."

"Why should I? After dealing with _Mr. Hades 'Git' Xylander_, now I have to deal with Percy!"

Ginny was already on her feet, trotting after them. She ran around them, and then spun to face them. She continued to walk backward and tried to keep her tone casual.

"Who?"

"Hades Xylander," said Hermione. "He was a Death Eater the first time Voldemort was in power, but became a double agent soon before Voldemort fell. He worked with the Ministry afterwards. He's the one who wanted to talk to us, for Ministry records."

Ron 'humphed'. "Yeah, sure. Like the Ministry wasn't full of Death Eater spies before the second time around."

"You think he was still a Death Eater?" asked Ginny.

"We don't know anything for sure," Hermione said, glaring at Harry and Ron as though she knew what was coming. Sure enough, both boys had begun to nod their heads.

"He was definitely still a Death Eater," said Harry.

Hermione sighed, exasperated. "And how do you know that, Harry?"

"He was a git," answered Ron, and Harry nodded enthusiastically.

"Yeah, well, you think Percy's a git," said Hermione, placing her hands on her hips. "Does that mean Percy's a Death Eater?"

Sudden visions of Percy coming back to fight with them at Hogwarts made Ginny's heart hurt. She didn't want to remember that, when their family was complete and whole and it looked like everything might actually be okay.

Ron sighed. "Fine. But I still don't like him."

"I didn't expect you to...he's a git," said Hermione. The trio continued moving to the house, but Ginny's feet seemed glued to the ground.

A Death Eater...named Hades.

'_**Maybe you should ask Hades.' **_

"...Tom," she said breathlessly once Harry, Ron and Hermione were in the house. "Tom. Is this what you meant?"

No response. She hadn't really expected one, either. He seemed to enjoy confusing her.

"Tom," Ginny repeated sharply as Shikoba caught up with her and sat at her feet. "Tom, _was this what you meant?" _

Silence again. She was getting fed up. She put her hands on her hips. "Do you want me to talk to him or not?"

_**That is for you to decide, not I. **_

Ginny frowned. He'd orchestrated this. He'd called her Kore. which led her to research the name and discover Persephone, which led her to discover the name Hades. He'd continuously called Lord Voldemort dead, but then asked how he could talk to her if he himself was dead. And then told her she should ask Hades. He'd had this planned. Who knew how far back the plan went? Maybe back to when he was still alive.

_**Who says I do not live now?**_

"Shut up," she mumbled. She ran her fingers through her hair and looked up at the sky as though for answers. If Tom wanted her to see Hades, it was probably for a bad reason. He might be using her now as he had when she was a first year.

The question was...would that stop her from going anyway, if there was a chance of discovering how to be rid of him for good?

"Tom, how do I get there?" she found herself saying suddenly. She knew it wasn't a good idea, that she was falling right into his trap...but that didn't matter anymore. She'd lived with him in her head for far too long.

But again he didn't answer.

"Damn you, Tom!" she exclaimed, though quietly enough to not be heard by anyone in the house. "You wanted me to talk to him, now tell me where he is!"

_**Fetch your broom.**_

Ginny didn't hesitate. She headed to her broom, which she'd left leaning against the back wall of the house after she'd gotten back from the library. Shikoba followed her around the house, though she kept trying to tell him to stay. He hated being without her.

Once her fingers had closed around the handle of the broom, she heard Tom again.

_**Take flight.**_

Ginny sighed in frustration at having to do everything step by step, but if that's the way he wanted to do it, then that was what she had to do. She got on her broom, took a deep breath and took off. Shikoba flapped his wings and took off with her. Ginny sighed and turned to face him.

"No, Shikoba, you need to..." she let the words die on her lips and Shikoba flew past her.

_**Follow him.**_

Follow him. Follow Shikoba. Of course, the diver that could walk on land...Shikoba was part of the plan, too. She'd been meant to find him. Meant to find him so he could lead her to Hades.

"Isn't that true?" she whispered against the wind.

_**True enough.**_

She was almost grateful that now it seemed that Tom had grown tired of speaking in code.

* * *

She'd been flying for over an hour now, in the cold high wind, tracking what she'd thought was her diver friend. Now that her hands were almost frozen to her broom and she was approaching an ex-Death Ester's house alone (what had possessed her to think that was safe?), paranoid thoughts were running through her head. What if Shikoba was a animagus, and was leading her to her death?

'_**Why would I go through so much trouble to destroy you that way?**_'' had been the response.

What if Hades was going to hold her prisoner, maybe use her to resurrect Voldemort?

'_**There is no coming back from death.**_'

Maybe Hades was just going to torture her for the hell of it.

That one had no response, which made Ginny grip the broom handle tighter.

Finally, Shikoba began to descend. She tilted the broom down a bit, matching the bird's speed as they came down for a landing on a lush green lawn. Looking around her, Ginny noted the six-foot concrete walls with a tall iron gate. There was a porch, too, with iron bars around it. It'd be easy enough to get through this magic, though she wondered why Hades bothered. Did he live in a muggle neighborhood? Why would a Death Eater live –

But of course, it was brilliant. Why _would_ a Death Eater live in a muggle neighborhood? He wouldn't. So of course no one would suspect him of being a Death Eater the second time around.

Ginny got off the broom and drew her wand, looking around in case he released the hounds or something. But everything seemed safe as she approached the pebble stone pathway. The barred gate to the porch had white rose bushes on either side.

She whispered and unlocking spell and slipped through the gate. then looked behind her. Shikoba sat on the pebble path, refusing to go any further. Was it some kind of warning? Well, if it was, it was too late. The front door opened.

A man stood there, a man who looked like he might be prematurely aging. He had fine lines around the corners of his eyes and mouth, and more then a few grey strands in his chocolate-colored hair and goatee. But his skin was clear and his eyes were bright and full of distrust.

"Who are you?" he barked. His voice was gruff and suspicious.

Ginny cleared her throat to give her a moment before answering, to consider giving a code name. "Ginevra Weasely," she found herself saying. If she was led her for a reason, it wouldn't help pretending to be someone else.

The man – Hades Xylander, she assumed – closed his eyes tightly for a moment, and sighed.

"Come in," he said, stepping aside. Ginny hesitated a moment, then slipped in past him. She heard him close and lock the door behind her.

Saying that the hallway was dark would be an understatement. There were no windows in the house, no windows in the doors, and only a faint light ahead of her was on, coming from a fireplace. How strange. She walked carefully down the carpeted hall, still gripping her wand in one hand and her broomstick in the other. She stepped into an underfurnished livingroom. In the dim light from the fireplace, she could see one black plush chair, a coffee table and a silver file cabinet. That was it, besides the carpet and large red brick fireplace with a roaring fire inside it.

"Sit," Hades commanded as he walked past her into an adjourning room. She hesitated again, and then obeyed. She had to know what was going on, and this might be her one chance.

She heard some clinking noises from the room to her left, and her eyes strained in the darkness as she tried to see what was going on in the room, but a black curtain hung where the doorway was. A moment or two later, Hades came back through the curtain with a silver tray with two small white coffee cups, a white cup and a silver pitcher. He placed the tray on the coffee table, disappeared behind the curtain, and reappeared with a dining room chair.

Lines formed between Ginny's brows as she frowned. Hospitality wasn't exactly what she'd been expecting. She'd been preparing herself for the git-like behavior Harry had complained about. Serving drinks was not exactly git-like behavior.

"Coffee?" Hades offered. "I'm afraid I'm not one for tea."

"Um...sure," she said softly.

"Milk?"

"Yes, please."

She watched as he poured a generous helping of milk in her cup, and then took his own black.

"Thank you," she said, letting her broom rest against the chair and accepting the offered cup. She refused to release her wand, even for a second.

Hades just nodded and took a deep swig from his cup. Ginny hesitantly took a drink from hers, and then resisted making a face. It was a little too hot for her. She set it down carefully.

"Mr. Xylander..." she began hesitantly. Hades raised a hand to silence her, and he put his cup roughly back down on the tray. Ginny couldn't resist jumping. She was, after all, in the presence of a man who either once was or was currently a Death Eater. She didn't want to think about it. It made her blood boil, thinking of all the horrible things this man probably did...

"I prefer to go by Hades," he said, leaning back in his chair, making the wood squeak a bit. "And I know why you're here."

"You do?" asked Ginny, surprised. She highly doubted he knew the real reason, but she was curious to know what he thought she was doing there. Probably something to do with how he'd treated Ron, Harry and Hermione earlier. They were, after all, her brother, boyfriend and best friend.

"Yes, I do," replied Hades, standing suddenly and walking to the file cabinet. "You're here to claim the records. Hell if I know how you found out about them."

_**Play along.**_ It was a command, and though once Ginny would have disobeyed it simply because it _was_ a command, now she was too afraid to. Too afraid he would really drive her mad if she didn't do what he told her to. Though being mad would be a fairly nice escape from this nightmare.

Ginny felt a sudden rush of nervous energy and picked up her cup of coffee and quickly drank it down, then set the empty cup back on the table. Still feeling the need to move, she shifted in her chair to watch Hades. He let a finger drift across the names of the files, every now and then pulling a manila envelope out. When he'd collected eight of them, he came back and dropped them in her lap. "Those should be all of them."

"Thank you," said Ginny slowly, as she spread them out across her lap. Eight manila envelopes. which, by the feel of them, held a good amount of paper in each one. Maybe twenty pages each. She was tempted to tear them open there and then, but something told her that Hades didn't really want company for very long. Though he _had_ served her coffee...

She looked up at him as he began pouring himself another cup of coffee.

"What are they?" She hadn't meant to say it, but her curiosity was going wild. She gasped as she felt a sudden sharp pain in the front of her head. She closed her eyes tight against it.

She heard Hades give a gasp of pain, too, and once the sudden headache faded she saw that he'd spilt coffee over his fingers.

"What d'you mean 'what are they'?" he demanded. "Don't you know?"

"W-well..." Ginny stammered, gripping her want tight enough to turn her knuckles white. "I was just-just told to come and collect them...I don't know what's in them."

Hades stared into her eyes, as though trying to stare into her soul. _Oh._ Was he able to read her mind, like Voldemort could? She stared back at him until he winced and looked away, rubbing his head in the same place that Ginny had felt pain earlier.

"They're records," he grunted. But this was something she already knew.

"Records of what?"

"Of you," he said, looking back at her. "You-Know-Who's records of you."

Ginny felt the blood rush out of her face. "Of me?"

"Yes," said Hades, picking up his cup of coffee again. "All about you when you were a first year at Hogwarts."

"He kept records of that?" It hadn't really occurred to her that Voldemort would know about the diary.

"Yes, and of other little things. I don't know exactly what they say, though," admitted Hades. "I wasn't permitted to read the Dark Lord's private writings."

Ginny swallowed, and then reached to pour herself another cup of coffee. Her throat was suddenly very dry. Hades beat her to it, pouring her another cup with one-third coffee and two-thirds milk. He passed her the cup.

_Well, for an ex-Death Eater, he's a great host, _thought Ginny, and then wondered why her friends had thought him such a git.

Ginny took a few deep gulps from the cup, now almost enjoying the burning sensation down her throat. This was getting to be too much for her to handle. Voldemort with records about her, about her first year? A Death Eater that was oddly polite to her? And now a cup and a half of coffee in her system. No wonder she felt the urge to jump up and run away.

"Is that all?" asked Hades. Ginny nodded enthusiastically, setting her cup down, tucking the files under her arm and picking up her broom as she stood.

"Thank for the records and hospitality, Mr. Xylander," she said,

"_Hades,_" he corrected her, and then he scoffed. "And it's not hospitality. The Dark Lord said that if I ever met you I had to treat you with respect. And he's come back from the dead before, there's no sayin' what he'd do if he came back and found out I treated you...well, like I treat everyone else."

Ginny blinked, deciding to refuse to process this comment. "Yes, well, I-"

Hades wasn't done yet. "I mean, I don't know why he'd care how I treated a _muggle_-lover," he spat the word 'muggle', making it clear it wasn't the word he wanted to use. "But orders are orders."

"Yes, I understand," said GInny, now backing towards the hallway. All she wanted to do was get out of there, fast. "Thank you for the files, have a good day."

She turned and practically ran down the hallway and out the door. She slammed it shut behind her and ran onto the lawn, then paused to catch her breath and figure out how she was going to carry the files back.

"Why..." she began, and then took a deep breath. "Why would you tell him to treat me with respect?"

_**Read the records.**_

Ginny shook he head. "But-"

**Read **_**the **_**records.**

Ginny swallowed hard, and then tucked her wand into her robes. She gripped the broom with one hand, and clutched the files against her chest with the others. Shikoba gave a short call, and then took off. Ginny took off after him, headed for home.

* * *

**Artificial: **Please review!


	6. Pandora's Box

A/N: Here's the next chapter. ...Yep, not much to say about that.

So I think all my canon facts are correct. If not...well, it is fanfiction, lol.

Enjoy, and please review!

* * *

Ginny finally arrived home as the sun began to set. She stashed her broom away, made sure the envelopes were tucked into her robes, scooped up an exhausted Shikoba and headed into the house.

"Ginny Weasely!" came her mother's high-pitched voice. Ginny resisted rolling her eyes, sighed, and turned to face her mother with a fake smile.

"Yes?"

"Where have you _been?_" her mother demanded.

Ginny shrugged. "I just went flying for a little while."

"It's past dinnertime, Ginny!" said Molly Weasely, putting her hands on her hips. "You had Harry worried sick! You said you'd be taking a nap, and then you run off to God-knows-where!"

"I'm sorry," Ginny apologized quickly, beginning up the stairs. "I didn't mean to cause any worry. Is Harry still here?"

"He's upstairs with Ron," her mother said. "You better go straightaway, and tell him you're alright."

"I will," promised Ginny, and then she ran upstairs to her room. She dropped Shikoba roughly on the bed, then took out the files and knelt down and slid them under her mattress. She looked up at Shikoba, who was lying where she'd dropped him, glaring at her like she'd betrayed him.

"I don't know who or what you are," she whispered sharply at him, "But I'm on to you. You're sleeping outside tonight, so don't get too comfortable."

Shikoba turned his head from her, hiding under his wing. Ginny sighed.

_**Sometimes a bird is just a bird.**_

"Shut up," Ginny muttered, standing and turning to face her mirror. She began straightening her hair. "He's not a normal diver if he can walk on land. He's not a normal diver if he can lead me straight to a Death Eater's house. I don't know how you managed it, but something isn't right with him."

_**I never said I did anything to the bird.**_

"But you did," spat Ginny, angry. She'd thought the bird was the one thing she could trust not to hurt her, and here it was under Voldemort's control the whole time!

_**Lord Voldemort is dead.**_

"Yeah, I know," said Ginny. She pulled her hair into a bun and grabbed the nice perfume Harry had surprised her with a couple months ago.

_**Has the bird ever harmed you?**_

Ginny hesitated before finishing spraying the perfume on her throat. "No. But that doesn't mean it won't."

_**Have I-**_

"No," said Ginny, slamming the perfume bottle down. "I'm done talking to you tonight. I'm going to go and say hello to Harry, and kiss him full on the lips."

_**No, you will not.**_

"Yes, I will," insisted Ginny, now starting to grin. "There's nothing you can do abou-"

Ginny have a sharp cry when she felt an intense pain in the front of her head. She closed her eyes tight and gripped her head, with a hand on each side. She'd never had a headache like this, except it was the same pain she'd felt earlier at Hades Xylander's...

"You're doing this!" she gasped.

_**Yes,**_ admitted Riddle. _**And if you kiss Harry it will continue, on and on, for weeks! Are you sure Potter's kiss is worth it? **_

"What is _wrong_ with you?" Ginny demanded. "How are you doing this?"

_**I'm gaining power, little Weasely. You cannot stop me.**_

Furious, Ginny turned and stormed out of her room. As she began towards Ron's room, she felt the headache begin to fade away.

She hated letting him control her life like this, but what choice did she have? Hear _the Lady of Shalott_ chanted in her head the rest of her life? Live with this debilitating headache? She couldn't do it. As strong as she once thought she was, she didn't have the strength to deal with this. She only hoped the folders held the answers for how to free her from this...this prison in her own mind.

Ginny knocked softly on her brother's door, and then held her breath.

"Yeah?" came Ron's voice. Ginny opened the door a bit.

"Hey, Gin," said Harry, sounding relieved. He instantly stood and walked over to her. "Where did you go? I was worried something had happened..."

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a hug. Then he tried to kiss her. Ginny turned her head to look at Ron, making Harry's lips fall on her cheek.

"I was out flying, sorry," she apologized. "I didn't mean to scare you."

Ron shrugged. He had a distant look in his eyes. Ginny knew that look to mean that Ron and Percy had been fighting again. _Would it ever stop?_

"You want to play some Wizard's Chess, Ginny?" asked Harry, stepping away. He tried to sound normal, but the creases in his brow told her he'd noticed her avoiding the kiss. "Ron and I have been playing awhile, and I...think he wants a break."

As in he'd finished ranting about Percy and was now thinking about Fred. Ginny felt a sharp pang in her chest as she thought of her dead brother. The house seemed so empty without him. George was probably locked away in their room right now...

"Um, I think I should just go to bed," sighed Ginny. "I am really tired."

"You _did_ skip your nap..." said Harry, looking concerned.

Ginny nodded. "Yeah. I'm just gonna go. Goodnight."

She didn't wait for a response. Instead, she went downstairs and searched their cupboards.

* * *

Half an hour, a huge mess and some improvising later, Ginny knocked on George's door.

"Who is it?" demanded George.

Ginny's hands trembled. "It's Ginny. Can I come in?"

She heard some commotion in the room, some things moved around (probably trying to hide how lazy he'd become) and then some heavy footfalls. The door swung open a few seconds later, revealing George. He had dark circles under his eyes and tangled hair, and was wearing very wrinkled robes, rather suggesting he hadn't bothered to change in a while. He was getting worse.

Ginny held her offering in front of his face slightly, smiling weakly. "Cake?"

George managed a small chuckle and stepped aside. Ginny walked into the room and set the cake on the desk. It was white cake swirled gold and red – a trick Hermione had taught her, though Ginny had used magic instead of food coloring – with fondant colored the same, except with the figure of a lion dyed into it. Gryffindor colors, the Gryffindor mascot. Fred's half of the room was exactly as he'd left it.

"Cake...great," George said, attempting to be enthusiastic. Ginny handed him a fork, and they dug in, eating directly from the pan. They sat there together, eating in silence for quite some time.

"The covering is really sweet," commented George.

Ginny nodded. "It's kind of like marshmallow."

"I like it," said George, peeling it off of some of the cake and eating it alone. Ginny giggled when she noticed some of the chocolate frosting on his nose.

"What?" he demanded.

"Nothing," Ginny said innocently, pretending to scratch her nose where George had frosting on his. He went crosseyed trying to see his own nose, making Ginny giggle again. George wiped the frosting off of his nose and wiped it on Ginny's hand.

"Ew!" she exclaimed, laughing. She wiped the frosting off on her robes. "You're so mean."

"Yeah," George laughed. "I'm your brother, it's what I do."

She shook her head slowly, still laughing, taking another bite of the cake.

"You know..." George sighed. "I also...take care of my little sister."

Ginny looked back up at George. He almost looked like he was going to cry.

George set down his fork. "I know you're down some siblings, Gin. Charlie and Bill are busy with their own lives...and Ron and Percy are too busy fighting with each other to notice anyone else. And Fred..." he swallowed hard. "But I'm here for you, Ginny. You can talk to me, okay? Even things you can't talk to Harry about."

Ginny's vision blurred as tears filled her eyes. "Thanks, George," she croaked out. "I will."

Somehow he knew. He knew she wasn't telling him something very important.

_Probably from catching me breaking down on the floor,_ she thought

But not only was he letting her know he knew, he was letting her know that he was willing to listen. To be there for her, maybe...to help. And who knew? Maybe he _could_ help. Maybe sometime he'd come across some magic like this, maybe he'd understand what she meant. Maybe he really could help her.

Ginny swallowed, setting aside her own fork.

"George..." she began.

"Yes, Ginny?"

"I have a headache." She hadn't meant to say that! It'd come out of her mouth, but she didn't say it.

But it was true. There was a sudden throbbing pain in her temples. She winced and brought her hands to them. Obviously, Tom – Voldemort – whoever the hell it was, didn't want her getting help. At least, not from George. But he had no problem with her getting help from a Death Eater.

"It's probably from the sugar," suggested George, sounding vaguely disappointed.

Ginny smiled, agreeing. "And I'm pretty tired."

"Go to bed," said George, standing up. "I'll take care of the cake."

Ginny sighed. She'd hoped to spend a little more time with her brother, but the throbbing in her head told her that her time was out.

"Okay," Ginny sighed. "Goodnight."

"G'night," said George as his sister left the room. Ginny headed back to her own room, shutting the door behind her without noticing Harry's eyes on her.

* * *

Ginny leaned her head against the shut door, closing her eyes as the headache began to fade away.

"Fine," she sighed. "You win. I won't ask for help. At least...not until I read the files."

There was no response, but she wasn't surprised. Because she knew she was lying, and therefore he knew it, too. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that the records might be a trap. Maybe Lord Voldemort had suspected what would happen, and wrote false records that would lead her to...something. Maybe some way to resurrect him.

_**Lord Voldemort is dead. The fully dead can not come back to life.**_

Shikoba was already asleep, but on the floor in front of her bed. She didn't have the energy to move him. Instead, she changed quickly and collapsed in bed. As she began to fall asleep, Tom spoke again.

_**I'm gaining power, little Weasely. You cannot stop me.**_

"Shut up," she mumbled into her pillow.

_**Do you remember the last time I gained power through you?**_

"Shut _up_," she said a little harsher, closing her eyes a little tighter. She fought memories back.

_**Do you remember how I used you to kill? It may have been mere birds...but it was still murder.**_

Now she was crying, and the memories were swirling in front of her eyes. The confusion, the terror, the fear of being out of control of herself. How like now was to then.

Wait...was that it? Was now _exactly_ like then? The same kind of magic? She searched her memory desperately for an answer. How had he managed to control her?

_**You are searching in vain, my little Pandora,**_ he said, again using a nickname that meant nothing to her. _**The answer does not lie in **_**your **_**memory.**_

"Then where does it lie?" she hissed, sitting up in bed. "In whose memory does the answer lie?"

_**The answer lies in the Chamber of Secrets.**_

"Impossible," she sighed, falling back. There was no way she could go back there, and no way she could remember anything about it. She was unconscious for most of what had happened in the Chamber. The only ones who knew what had happened there were Tom, and – and –

Harry.

Harry Potter had been in the Chamber, too. He remembered more about it then she did.

"Is that right?" she asked, slowly, carefully. "Is that where the answer lies? In Harry?"

_**Your King is in check.**_ He was back to speaking in code. This comment made no sense at all. He was done being helpful. Ginny rolled her eyes, rolled onto her side and tried to sleep.

_**Be careful how you open that box, Pandora.**_

_**

* * *

**_

**Artificial:** Review, pwetty pwease.


	7. The Nightmare

a/n: In this chapter I rip myself off again, but since it's my writing I'm stealing, it's not plagiarism...right?

The writing here isn't amazing in the slightest. I was going to take more time and make this longer, but I'm afraid if I wait too long I won't update at all. So. Here we go!

* * *

Ginny woke to the sound of a stream rushing by her, and birds chirping over her. She was lying on a bed of soft green grass and the world smelled sweet and fresh...

_She was outside._

Her eyes opened suddenly, and she leapt to her feet. It wasn't a dream! She was outside, somewhere unfamiliar. She was still dressed in what she'd been wearing to bed, but at her feet was her broom and the folders containing Lord Voldemort's records.

"_What did you do?_" she spat. "You...you..." she couldn't speak. Being possessed had been her worst fear since her first year at Hogwarts, when Tom Riddle had possessed her through the diary.

_**I summoned the records and your broom to your hands, and then I made you apparate. You won't find your way home unless I guide you. I won't guide you until you read.**_

She looked at the stack. "But that'll take all day!"

_**Start reading,**_ he suggested.

Ginny walked over to the stream and knelt beside it, then splashed cold water on her face. It didn't wake her up. Still, it felt nice, so she splashed some on her arms, too, and then behind her neck. "How am I going to explain this to my family?" she wondered.

_**The very least of your problems. **_He seemed more impatient then ever. What was the urgency in her reading those records? What was it he wanted to happen from that? Now, more then ever, she felt like she was falling into a trap.

"I could find my way home on my own, I don- ahhh!" she gasped as the sudden pain in her head returned. She splashed her face with the cold water again and again, and when that didn't work she submerged her head in the water. Nothing. She pulled her head out, caught her breath and sighed. "Okay! Okay. I'll read them."

The pain disappeared instantly. Ginny crawled to where the records lay in the grass. She wiped her face dry with her sleeve, and then reached for one of the folders. Flicking a bug off the edge of it, she opened the folder and pulled out the papers inside. The top was some sort of coversheet reading 'TOP SECRET – RECORDS of THE DARK LORD'S DIARY'. She turned the page.

These were handwritten accounts, with the date on one side (the first reading SEPTEMBER 1993) and paragraphs on the other. Some of the paragraphs were long and detailed, some a couple lines long stating only basic facts. But it was immediately obvious that this was a day-to-day account of what Tom Riddle's memory had experienced through the diary. How Lord Voldemort knew any of it, she did not understand.

Ginny took a deep breath to steel herself, and began reading.

SEPTEMBER 1993 – _A girl began to write in the diary. Ginevra Weasley, called Ginny by her family and friends. She complained that she had no friends, and that she thought her brothers would ignore her and Harry Potter wouldn't notice her. My sixteen-year-old memory found this opportunity to learn more about this time and his future self's fate, as well as perhaps gain power. He introduced himself and became Weaseley's confidant._

Ginny closed her eyes tight. She did not want to do this. She did not, she did not...she did not want to have to go back and relive all that awful time. Her first year had scarred her more than anyone really understood. She'd been possessed! And now to have to relive it through her possessor was...a nightmare.

But she had no choice. She opened her eyes and skimmed what lie ahead of her, and realized that Voldemort had changed pretenses a lot while recording. It went from talking about his memory to talking about himself a lot. He was probably too wrapped up in the memories to recognize...

She swallowed hard and continued reading, skipping the few she'd already skimmed, hoping the Riddle in her head wouldn't mind.

_Weasely writes in the diary about how she has to come to school with secondhand books and robes because her family is poor and has many children, and she is the youngest. I am sympathetic and charming as usual_...

Ginny skimmed forward again, knowing there was no way she'd finish all this before sunset if she read every word. Mostly because she'd get too angry and throw the records into the stream.

_Weasely talks more about Harry Potter, my memory requests more information about Potter and why he is so famous. She tells him that Potter defeated 'You-Know-Who' (after pushing hard for clarification, she explains, 'The Dark Lord', and after more pushing, 'Lord Voldemort') as a baby. She tells the story_...

Most of the entries she remembered, her complaining about how Harry ignored her or her brothers teased her (the bits about Fred making her blood run cold) or how afraid she was she wouldn't make any friends or be bad in her classes. But some were insights...

_Still the Weasely girl, complaining about her life. Attempting to figure out a way for her to hand the diary over to Potter while attempting to draw out her secrets to feed off of._

There was more, her talking about her jealousy of Hermione being so close to Harry though at the same time Ginny had wanted to be friends with her. Little secrets, like how she was just as afraid of spiders as Ron was, though she'd never admit it to anyone else. And then came the darker things.

_Another secret, one that I could actually feed off of. Weasely's worst fear is to be abandoned by her family, by everyone she cares for, left alone to suffer alone, perhaps falling into madness. How delicious this fear is!_

Ginny shivered reading this. Her life now was that fear come to life. Her family may not have purposefully abandoned her, but not one had noticed that something was terribly wrong. And she'd felt herself going mad, before she'd realized it really _was_ the ghost of Tom Riddle in her head.

_**A ghost is one who is dead...have I ever claimed to be among the dead?**_

Ginny silenced him by continuing reading, though now she skimmed through as quickly as she could.

_The Weasely girl's best secret seems to be how powerful she is. Talking to her about some of her classes she seems much more advanced than a first year..._

_...Little Weasely admitted that when she was younger she'd sneak into her brother's rooms and read their textbooks in eager anticipation for when she'd go to Hogwarts. My memory kept thinking of his own short wait before going Hogwarts and how impatiently..._

_...Ginevra_

HE'D USED HER FIRST NAME.

That bastard had used her name! As though they were friends! Why would he do that? Why would Lord Voldemort use her name, when –

_**Read!**_ Tom commanded, and she had no choice but to obey.

_Ginevra and I talked about our favorite stories today. Her's is a muggle fairytale called Cinderella, where..._Ginny decided to skip the story, and instead wonder why he bothered to record it..._I didn't have one to tell, so she began telling me a new story each night so I – my memory- could find a favorite. My memory is not so annoyed by this, since it stops her from complaining about her own life...and perhaps one or two of the stories are interesting._

Ginny fought her gag reflex and continued.

_Ginevra told me about her day as usual, only this day seemed more centered on that Potter boy than usual...I can't wait until I can get my hands on him...I feel more anger at the thought of him..._

Ginny skipped forward, skimming the next few pages without them really registering.

_Ginny – _

"Ginny?" she exclaimed aloud. "Why the hell-"

_**READ.**_

_Ginny tells me her favorite memories of childhood, such as learning to play Quidditch with her brothers and her father showing her his collection of mudblood items. She seems fascinated with those filthy mudblood things, the way they do things without magic. Foolish girl, doesn't she realize how precious her pure blood is? She wants me to tell her what it was like growing up in the muggle orphanage. I weave some lie about..._

Ginny remembered the lie well enough and skipped over it, as well as the next few entries into the record. She passed quickly by his first explanation of his possession of her, turning a page or two forward quickly.

_As mudbloods fall prey to the 'monster in the Chamber', Ginny is becoming more and more frightened. Though I am amused, something about it bothers me. Likely the fact that she doesn't understand what noble work is happening._

Ginny continued flipping through the pages, wanting to get away from the possession. Tom doesn't seem to mind this, as anxious as he is for her to read these records.

_Just as my memory realizes the possessiveness he feels for Ginny Weasely, the fact that if he still had a soul he would likely fall in love with her –_

The next thing Ginny knew, she was on her feet with the records flung as far from her as possible. The papers slowly drift down through the air, spread across the grass in front of her.

Ginny stood staring at them drifting downward, trying to catch her breath though she couldn't remember losing it.

"No," she gasped.

_**Pick them up.**_

"_No,_" she insisted. "I won't. I don't believe it. It's a trick."

_**Pick them up and finish reading them.**_

Ginny swallowed hard, and shook her head. Her heart was racing. "I can't do it."

_**You can and you will. You must. Finish them!**_

Ginny was shaking, but she managed to slowly walk over to the largest pile of papers and fall to her knees. She slowly collected them all, then found the last few pages.

_My memory refocuses his priorities, and sends Ginny into the Chamber. As he gains his body and she slowly dies, he talks to her of little nonsense things, pretty magic he knows and how the world will be better when the muggles are..._

Ginny didn't want to read this part, but she forced herself to anyway. It told the story of how Harry came to rescue her, Tom revealed himself as the young Lord Voldemort, then the subsequent fight and defeat of Riddle. But nothing is listed that seems to reveal anything about her current situation.

_My memory self is destroyed by Harry Potter. Once I am resurrected in the graveyard where my mudblood father lies, I remember the whole of the event as though it had happened to my actual sixteen-year-old self. Something compels me to be certain Ginny Weasely still exists...and then I decide to write these records and forget. _

Ginny closes the written account and glances at the other records – containing a drawing of the Chamber of Secrets, instructions for how to enter it, how he'd created the diary – but doesn't pay much attention. Riddle doesn't seem to feel the drive for her to continue reading anymore.

"...Is that it?" she asks. "I thought the answer was in the Chamber of Secrets. I don't understand."

_**But I do.**_

Ginny sighed as she gathered the records against her. Then, struck by inspiration, she let them fall into the stream and watched as they flowed far away from her.

"Can I go home now?"

There's no answer, but there's also no voice stopping her as she picks up her broom. When she takes to the air, Riddle only gives her basic directions back to the Burrow. And Ginny is grateful for this small blessing; she doesn't want to think about those certain lines in the records more then she has to now.

* * *

**Artificial:** Please review!


	8. Greyness

A/N: This was going to be combined with the next chapter (still in progress), but I'm having trouble with it and I didn't want you guys to have to wait any longer (ya'll are spoiled compared to my Mummy fanfic readers, who've been waiting like...a year for the third rewrite and conclusion. Wow, I suck.). It's frustrating me that I haven't written any of these chapters longer than like, eight pages, but whatever. I figure it's better to put out more short chapters than fewer long ones.

Oh, and for some reason I keep changing from third person to first person to narrative, I don't know why. I keep going back to fix things, I think I got it all. If not I'm sorry.

And here's the chapter that screams 'I'm American'! I don't know the right slang or words for things, but I try to cover it up, lol.

Anyway, please...read, enjoy, review.

* * *

Ginny landed in front of the Burrow as the sky was beginning to become streaked with orange and pink. She'd been brought much further away than she'd thought, and it had taken so long to fly home that she had to stop to rest a few times. Her stomach growled loudly, reminding her that she hadn't eaten once that day. To top it off, she was in her pajamas. This wasn't going to be easy to explain.

She approached the door apprehensively, opening it slowly and peeking her head in, expecting her family to be gathered around the table, each looking at the clock worriedly, wondering where she'd gone without saying a word to anyone.

She shouldn't have been surprised when they weren't there.

Ginny entered the house slowly, gripping her broom to her body as she slowly walked through the rooms, looking for everyone. She heard Percy and Ron before she saw them, on the stairs screaming at each other. She couldn't even understand a word they said, she just saw them in each other's faces (which were both bright red), yelling and pointing in various directions.

She carefully took a few steps up, and they both turned to her.

"Ginny," Percy breathed, sounding relieved.

"Ginny!" shouted Ron, not sounding so relieved. He went down a few steps and took her by the shoulders. "Where the bloody hell were you?"

"I...I was just..."

"Ginevra!" cried her mother's voice behind her. "Where the bloody hell were you?"

Ginny's eyes widened at her mother's curse. She'd only heard her curse one other time in her life, and it was when Ginny had been in danger.

"I'm sorry, I was just-"

"Just _what?_" demanded Ron.

"Leave her alone," said Percy, walking up and pulling Ron back by his shoulder. "Just let her answer."

"I don't care about the answer," said Molly Weasely suddenly, "I don't care. You're not leaving this house again!"

"What?" said Ginny in surprise.

"For four months," decided Molly.

Ginny backed up a step, almost tripping over her feet. She could hardly go out as it was, and now she wouldn't even be allowed to see Hermione? Or Luna? "Where's dad?"

"Working late again," Molly snapped. This wasn't like her at all, but it was obvious all the fighting between Ron and Percy and the reclusiveness of George and Ginny was getting to her. "Now get upstairs to your room now, go!"

"But I haven't-"

"Go!"

Ginny spun and pushed her way between Percy and Ron and ran up the stairs. She paused when she reached the second floor, and walked quietly over to George's door. She pressed an ear against the wood. There was movement inside. So he was home. She reached a hand up to knock on the door, but decided against it. She might not be able to resist talking to him about things, and she didn't want another headache.

She walked into her room, closed the door behind her with her foot. Shikoba wasn't in her room, so he probably was put outside. A glance out the window confirmed it – he was hiding under a tree across the way. Lightning flashed in the sky, suggesting a storm on it's way. She felt a little bad for the bird left out in the rain, giving mournful cries. But she also didn't trust it.

Ginny spent most of the rest of the night slowly getting ready for bed, taking a hot bath and changing into a nightgown and lighting more candles. She picked up a book to read. She crawled under the covers and tried hard not to think about her family's anger (though she knew it was caused by worry, it hurt), the fact that she wouldn't be allowed to leave the house for months, about anything she'd read in those records. She didn't want to think about it, didn't want to let it sink in. She hadn't found a way to get rid of him, so there was no reason to remember any of it. She just wanted to forget what Tom had said about falling...

Ginny growled, throwing the book down to the foot of her bed.

"You've made me be put on house arrest, are you happy?" she demanded. When she didn't get an answer, she continued. "You have taken away my whole life. I can't see my friends, I can't see Harry, you won't even let me see my brother! Why? Why are you doing this to me?"

There still wasn't a response. She supposed he didn't want to answer for his crimes. Or maybe the reason was obvious...he was evil. He enjoyed her pain. He always had...

_**Stop pretending you didn't read it. **_

"It doesn't mean anything," spat Ginny, sitting up in her bed. "It doesn't mean anything."

_**Yes, it does.**_

"No, it doesn't," she insisted. "If it did..."

_**If it did, what?**_

"If it did, you wouldn't be doing this to me!" she insisted.

_**Mignon McLaughlin, fifty eight, sixty two. **_

Ginny sighed. "I already read those, they didn't mean-"

_**The more you insist something doesn't mean anything, the more you show you know it does.**_

"You're not making sense," Ginny sighed, though she knew that sentence was one of the few things he'd said that wasn't completely cryptic. "I say it doesn't mean anything because it doesn't."

_**It is not for **_**you**_** to decide that.**_

"So what, you expect me to believe..."

_**Believe what?**_

"Nothing," sighed Ginny, falling back on her bed, refusing to think about the possibility. "Please leave me alone."

_**You began this conversation. It's time to finish it.**_

"No," insisted Ginny. "I won't." Now she'd decided. Tomorrow morning she would talk to Harry about this. About what was said in the Chamber that might possibly help her.

She waited for a sudden intense headache with this decision, but it didn't come. Instead she felt a strange wave of impending doom.

_**Remember that your King is in check, and be careful where you go from here.**_

Ginny sighed. She got up and blew out the candles, crawled into bed, and stared at the ceiling and flashes of light until she fell asleep.

* * *

Harry moved away from Ginny's door, frowning. He decided not to talk to her tonight. But something was very wrong. He almost hoped she was just talking to herself, even if it meant she was...mad...

* * *

The storm was still raging when Ginny woke the next morning. Instead of sunshine coming through her window, a sort of greyness leaked into her room. The air felt thick with something, an emotional heaviness. Depression, probably. Not only was she deprived of family, friends and freedom, she didn't get to have sunlight either.

She crawled out of bed and looked inside her dresser. She pulled out some of the Muggle clothing Hermione had given her – a yellow dress, to make up for the lack of sunlight. But it was cool inside the house, so she slipped on a cream-colored sweater with slightly puffy sleeves and extra large buttons. She debated a moment, then put on a pair of white fluffy slippers before heading out of her room.

She went down the stairs and into the dining room. Empty, as was usual lately. She found some leftovers though, which told her she'd slept longer than she'd thought. She ate whatever she found that was still left (starving after not eating the day before), then went and collapsed on the sofa. Eating that much after not eating for so long made her feel sick. She closed her eyes, and listened to the rain falling outside. There weren't any other sounds in the house. Maybe everyone was gone.

_**Now would be the perfect time to go outside...**_

She groaned, and rolled over to face the couch.

"Ginny," came a voice behind her. She turned, smiled weakly.

"Hi, Dad," said Ginny, sitting up, wiping the tears from her eyes. Had she been crying?

"I heard about the grounding," he sighed, sitting on the couch next to her. He looked half-dead. The home life was stressful, as was work. Now that the war was over and everything had settled down (for the most part), everyone was under investigation for illegal things that had happened during the war. They'd been done to defeat Voldemort, but the Minister didn't seem to care. Ginny's father was both investigating and being investigated, eating much of his time and energy. And the nights he did get home, he had to deal with Ron and Percy fighting, and Ginny and George hiding, and his wife spending most of her time crying in the bedroom.

"Yeah," Ginny responded.

"Can't leave the house?"

Ginny sat up, shrugging. "I didn't really, anyway."

"You shouldn't have left the house without telling her."

_It wasn't my fault!_ she screamed in her mind, but knew she couldn't tell him.

"I know. I'm sorry."

Her father nodded, and then headed out the door without another word. Ginny frowned, and pushed her face into the couch cushions with a sigh.

* * *

**Artificial: **Please review!


	9. Revelation

A/N: Shortest. Stupidest. Chapter. Ever. But if I'm going to move forward, I need to get SOMETHING uploaded. So instead of the full chapter I'd planned for you all, I offer this. Better writing will be found in the next chapter, I promise.

* * *

Ginny was still on the couch hours later. She'd fallen asleep to the sound of the rain outside shortly after her father had left. All she seemed to do lately was sleep, but rarely could she remember her dreams. Maybe that had something to do with Tom.

She was still half-asleep when she heard steps coming down the stairs. She rolled onto her side and opened her eyes into small slits, and saw the blurred form of Harry, standing on the stairs. He saw her on the couch and hesitated. She yawned, stretched her arms over her head and sat up, forcing a smile for him.

"Hey, Harry."

"Hey Ginny," Harry said, waving awkwardly at her. "How are you?"

She shrugged. "Okay, I guess. Want to sit down?"

Harry nodded, stepping off the last stair and walking over to her, sitting beside her. Neither looked at the other. "You know you scared us yesterday."

Ginny nodded, frowning. "Sorry."

"What happened?"

"I just..."she swallowed hard. "Needed some time away. You know?"

Harry squeezed his hands into fists. "I know. Still...you should have told someone."

"I know."

"And at least changed into some robes."

"I know."

Silence descended on them.

"Hey, Harry..." began Ginny, turning her head towards him slightly though her eyes were still locked on his feet.

"Yeah?"

"There's something I've been wondering about..."

Harry turned to Ginny, now trying to meet her eyes. "What is it?"

"About – about what happened in the Chamber."

Silence now, the heavy kind that weighs down on you, makes it difficult to breathe.

"Why?" asked Harry slowly.

"I – I've been having nightmares," she lied. "About what happened. But I don't know what's memory and what I'm just making up."

She looked up in time to see Harry's lips purse together and his green eyes turn to the ceiling. "Why do you need to know?"

Ginny sighed. This wasn't going well. She wasn't sure what to say in response – why _did_ she need to know?

"Maybe if I know what's real and what isn't, the nightmares will stop."

The heavy silence descended again. Harry sighed and leaned back against the cushions of the couch. As though she wasn't acting suspicious enough...

"Fine," sighed Harry. "How much do you want to know?"

"All of it," she said instantly. "Every detail."

As Harry began to speak, talking about how Ron and he had found the writing on the wall, Ginny's mind began to wander a bit. She listened for any hint of what might help her, but at the same time she tried to process everything.

Tom Riddle, somehow, lived in her head. And Lord Voldemort remembered everything she'd experienced with the diary. And Tom had said he might have…could have…fallen in love with her. Oh God, was that hard to think about.

"So wait…" she said suddenly. It took her a moment to realize it was because something Harry had said confused her.

"What?" asked Harry.

"You and Tom talked before he attacked you?"

"Yeah."

"What could you possibly have talked about? Me?"

"A little," shrugged Harry. "He just told me how he'd used you through the diary, something about putting his soul into you. Mostly he just wanted to gloat about his being Lord Voldemort."

Ginny nodded and let Harry keep talking, though she'd grown pale. He'd put his soul into her. To Harry that just meant that he had possessed her…but to Ginny...

Could he have left some of his soul inside her? Was that what had happened? Could this be the answer?

But then…if this was the answer, then what was the solution? How was she going to get rid of Tom?

_**You can't be rid of me, Ginny darling.**_

_**

* * *

**_

Artificial: Please review, it keeps me going!


	10. Discovery

A/N: Not much to say here, except that I changed the title of the last chapter (didn't seem to match to mood of the rest of my titles).

Enjoy this chapter!

* * *

"_Powerful enough to start feeding Miss Weasely a few of _my _secrets, to start pouring a little of _my _soul back into _her_…"_

Tom Riddle, Chamber of Secrets

* * *

Three days later, Harry sat in the kitchen of the Burrow, pushing a slice of banana around his oatmeal with a spoon. His attention was focused outside, where Ginny flew in small circles on her broom. Mrs. Weasely had decided to let her out into the yard but no further. For the last three days Ginny had been making those little circles…from sunrise to sundown, barely taking the time to eat or bathe. For the last three days she'd worn a pair of pajama pants that Hermione had given her two years ago, a black pair with little white and pink clouds on them. She wore the muggle tshirts Luna gave her that had been decorated to keep some mythical magical creature or other away.

It was obvious Ginny was depressed. Not taking care of herself made it very clear. But the constant circles were just…a little…

Crazy.

And nothing Harry did could help. He'd gotten on his broom and followed her, offered a game of Quidditch, tried talking to her…nothing. She barely even looked at him.

What was going on? What was wrong with Ginny? Maybe the shock of Fred's death was just hitting her…or how dysfunctional her family suddenly was…maybe he should take her on vacation.

"The Chamber of Secrets…" he muttered to himself before taking a bite of the cold oatmeal. That was another mystery. Why the sudden interest in what had happened all those years ago? And who was it she muttered to in her room late at night?

What if she _was_ crazy? What would they do?

Harry set down his spoon. This was all too confusing. It was time he talked to someone about his concerns – he needed help.

* * *

She knew she was a mess.

_Tom Riddle's soul is inside me…_

Her hair was in tangled knots, her skin was paler than ever. She barely ate or bathed or did anything at all. All she could do was sit on her broom and spin those circles in the frigid air, again and again and again. She couldn't even think right.

_Tom Riddle's soul is inside me, Tom Riddle's soul is inside me, Tom Riddle's soul is inside me…_

She had never gotten a confirmation from him, but his silence was confirmation enough. He hadn't spoken since those words – '_You can't be rid of me, Ginny darling'._

It was all connecting now.

_Tom Riddle's soul is inside me, Tom Riddle's soul is inside me…_

When she'd written in the diary, she was pouring her soul into him. When he'd shared his secrets with her, he'd poured some of his soul into her. When Lord Voldemort died, part of him was still alive. They hadn't killed the part of him trapped inside her.

_Tom Riddle's soul is inside me…_

If it was just part of his soul from the diary, then technically he wouldn't know everything Lord Voldemort knew. But he did somehow. That was the confusing part. But she didn't have the energy or desire to ask, to understand exactly how much of Lord Voldemort lived inside her.

_Tom Riddle's soul is inside me, Tom Riddle's soul is inside me, Tom Riddle's soul is inside me, Tom Riddle's soul is inside me…_

Part of her had a theory. That when Voldemort's body died, all his soul gathered to the one living body his soul was still contained in. And he sounded like Tom because his soul reverted to what it was before he tore it to pieces. But then, the point in time he'd possessed her – his sixteen-year-old self – he'd already murdered somebody.

_Tom Riddle's soul is inside me…_

It was a magic she didn't understand.

_Tom Riddle's soul is inside me, Tom Riddle's soul is inside me…_

After she'd talked to Harry, she had gone and taken a bath in the hottest water she could stand. She scrubbed her skin raw, burned it with the water but still felt filthy. She tried steam to sweat out her toxins, meditated, bathed herself in perfume, vomited, tried to create new spells, prayed, everything she could think of to force Tom out. Nothing worked. When she'd found herself standing over the bathroom sink with a knife in her hand ready to bleed him out, she knew she had to give up. She set the knife down and begged her mother to let her out of the house.

And then the circles began.

_Tom Riddle's soul is inside me, Tom Riddle's soul is inside me…_

She couldn't stop them. Maybe part of her thought the cold would freeze him out, the repetition would bore him and somehow he'd leave. But she still felt him with her. He was always there, speaking or not.

The circles kept her busy, at least.

_Tom Riddle's soul is inside me, Tom Riddle's soul is inside me, Tom Riddle's soul is inside me, Tom Riddle's soul is inside me, Tom Riddle's soul is inside me, Tom Riddle's soul is inside me, Tom Riddle's soul is inside –_

"Hey, Gin," came a voice below her. It wasn't Harry's voice, which she heard dimly from time to time. It was George.

"George," she breathed, looking down at him, following him with her eyes as she continued to circle. George held his broom in his hand.

"Care for some Chaser practice?"

Ginny slowly closed her eyes as she continued to spin. She needed to do something new. And George needed this.

"Sure," she said, finally going down to the ground. "One on one?"

The sound of glass breaking from somewhere inside the house. Ginny panicked until George shook his head.

"Ron and Percy's fights are escalating," he explained. "I don't think they'll be joining us."

"Harry?"

"Left a bit ago, didn't say where." George shrugged.

Ginny pursed her lips into a thin line, and then nodded. It had once been her dream to be a professional Quidditch player. She still longed for it.

"Let's play."

* * *

George and Ginny set up rings on either side of the yard, and began to practice. They played for hours and the sun shone brightly as it moved across the sky, finally beginning to sink to the other side of the sky. It was hard to practice…George didn't go easy on her. But it was fun, enough to shake her from her conscious coma. She had just began to smile when a sudden, intense headache formed in the front of her head.

"No!" she cried, landing and then gripping her head with one hand "No!"

"What is it?" asked George, landing across from her.

It was one of _those _headaches, the kind caused by _him_. He had been quiet all this time and **this** is how he decided to return?

He couldn't even let her smile! He wouldn't let her be happy or even just sane. She wasn't allowed to spend time with George or Harry or _anyone_!

Ginny threw her broom to the ground in frustration.

"Do you want me to spend the rest of my life alone? Is that what you want?" she screamed down at it.

The headache stopped, and everything seemed suddenly quiet as Ginny realized what had just happened. She looked up wide eyes, pale and shaking. George stood perfectly still, staring back at her, his mouth slightly open.

_**You can never be alone, Ginny.**_

"I…I-I was just-" stammered Ginny, but there was no explanation this time. Instead, she turned and ran into the house.

* * *

Ginny sat on her bed, bent over with her head between her knees. Her door was locked and she'd moved her dresser in front of it.

"Now even George will think I'm crazy," she muttered, fighting tears back. "You just want me alone, don't you? You want my family and friends to leave me so I'll always be alone."

_**You can never be alone, Ginny, **_Riddle repeated. _**I will always be here. I will never leave you alone.**_

"Shut up," muttered Ginny as she began to sob. "Please…please, just leave me! Let me be!"

_**I will never leave you.**_

"I can't live with you in my head…" she gasped between sobs. "Please…they'll lock me up…"

A low cry came from across the room. Ginny jumped to her feet and turned, and saw Shikoba sitting on the other side of her bed. He walked across the bed and softly pecked her waist, asking for attention. Since he had led her to the Death Eater's house, she'd tried to ignore him, but the bird kept coming back to her.

Perhaps he was just a bird, and not a Death Eater in disguise somehow. But how had it known where Hades lived? And how did it walk?

"You'll never answer those questions, will you?"

_**You do not need to know the answer.**_

"Yes, I do," insisted Ginny. "I need to know if I can trust Shikoba."

_**You **_**wish**_** to know; it is not the same as **_**needing**_**.**_

"Tell me!"

_**You must learn to trust yourself, Ginevra. Do you believe the bird to be evil?**_

Ginny held her breath for a moment and then knelt to the floor. She was now eye level with Shikoba, and the diver stared back at her. After a few seconds it gave a soft cry and moved forward a few steps.

"No," breathed Ginny, patting the bird on the head. "No, I don't."

She grabbed Shikoba off the bed and set him beside her. Then she took a pillow off the bed and laid down, exhausted. The practice had taken a lot out of her, a lot she didn't really have in her. Three days of doing nothing had been hard on her body.

"Goodnight, Shikoba," she mumbled as her eyes began to close.

* * *

From outside the room, George heard Ginny talking to herself. He had followed directly behind her but she didn't notice him calling for her. He stopped in the hall when he heard her dresser move. Now he stood with his ear against the door, his fist raised to knock as he had intended to before hearing Ginny's voice. Before she said such unusual things to herself…

There was a creaking noise behind him, and George turned to look.

"Harry," he whispered. "Do you know..."

Harry shook his head. "Something is wrong. We need to find out what's happening with her."

"'We'?" asked George.

"Yeah," sighed Harry, motioning for George to follow him. "'We'."

George followed Harry upstairs to Ron's room, where a group was gathered. They talked in whispers until late in the night, when the moon was shining brightly despite the heavy cloud cover.

Nothing was decided when the group went their separate ways. But they planned to meet again, to discuss again. A solution would have to be found.

Everyone crawled into their beds, the redhead girl on their minds. The redhead girl who talked to someone who wasn't there, flew in circles, seemed to have forgotten herself. The redhead girl who might have gone completely mad.

But soon they were all asleep, under a dark cloudy sky that threatened a storm.

It was the next day that the body was discovered.

* * *

Artificial: Please review!


	11. Checkmate

A/N: Time flies when you're not having fun.

I'm sorry for the wait. Life has been stressful. Not that it's any excuse to blow this off, but…you know, it happens. Especially when your mother has a heart attack. Ergh.

BUT ANYWAY.

I hope you enjoy this chapter. It feels a bit…off to me, but most of my writing usually feels off and people seem to like it anyway. Crazies. xD So anyway, enjoy!

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_"The object of life is not to be on the side of the majority, but to escape finding oneself in the ranks of the insane."_ - Marcus Aurelius

* * *

Ginny woke and rolled to her side, and noticed Shikoba sleeping peacefully on her pillow. Her eyes widened, and she jumped out of her bed. The bird slowly opened an eye to look at her, and then fell back asleep. But the shaken girl could felt her body trembling. She'd slept with that _thing_ in her bed. She didn't know what it was…or, a much scarier thought, _who_ it was. She had decided not to trust it, but then…last night…

Riddle had tricked her.

_**How have I tricked you?**_

"You convinced me to trust it…" said Ginny, gasping for air. It felt as though her anger was fiery enough to burn off her oxygen.

_**I simply told you to trust yourself. If your judgment was incorrect, than it was you who tricked yourself.**_

"You _convinced me_," Ginny insisted. "I don't know how you did it, or why, but somehow you got into my mind and _made_ me trust it."

_**It would seem I am already inside your mind, Ginevra. **_

"Shut up," Ginny muttered. "Just leave me alone, okay? Just for one day. Leave me the _hell_ alone."

She threw open her dresser, grabbed some clothes and then moved it back to the side of the room it normally belonged. Then she left her room, not even glancing back at the bird inside it. Riddle said a few more cryptic things to her, but she ignored the comments and took a bath.

The steam that was rising up from the bath smelled sweet from the salts she'd poured in, a floral scent that was part rose and part lavender. She let the heat seep into her body and relax her constantly aching muscles. She closed her eyes and just…breathed. All she did was breathe.

She'd been lucky that thus far Riddle hadn't tried talking to her when she was bathing, or changing. Ginny wasn't sure if she could deal with anything like that. It was already obvious he had more power of her than she thought, she _didn't_ want him to gloat about it while she was nude and vulnerable.

Once she was finished bathing, she changed into fresh clothing. She'd been wearing the same sort of clothes over and over again, and she hadn't changed her pants before then. But now she put on a clean set of olive robes. She braided her long, red hair then twisted it into a bun. And then she began down the stairs for breakfast.

It wasn't as though Ginny felt any better than she had the last few weeks. But practicing with George had somehow pulled her out of her repetition. She still couldn't bring herself to smile or feel any sort of hope of escaping Riddle, but she could wash and dress and eat. She wasn't sure what else she was capable of. Perhaps she could ask Hermione to bring her some books for research, but it felt as though that would be completely in vain. Ginny had already done research and never heard of a witch or wizard hearing a voice…

But then, she had never looked up anything to do with someone leaving part of their soul in a person. Maybe if she looked up something on possession….but then, possession was different from Horcruxes, wasn't it?

Was that was she was? A Horcrux?

Of course she was, or at least…something like it. That was why Riddle had pointed out the fact that she'd killed the chickens, wasn't it? Maybe he'd turned her into some sort of…miniature horcrux. He'd left part of his soul in her, after all.

But that meant that the only way to be free was to stab herself with a baskilisk fang, or the Sword of Gryffindor.

_**How poetic it would be for a Gryffindor to end her life with **_**his**_** sword.**_

Ginny stopped in the stairway, and glanced around to be sure that no one was around her. She looked into the glass of a window that faced the garden, but instead of gazing out across the green outside, she stared into her own reflection.

"Is that what you want from me?" she whispered bitterly. "Do you want me to kill myself?"

_**Why would I wish that, little Ginny? **_

"Because you hate me."

_**Mignon McLaughlin, fifty eight, sixty two.**_

"Shut _up_ about that," she muttered, turning to begin down the stairs again. "It doesn't mean anything."

_**The more you insist something doesn't mean anything, the more you show you know it does.**_

"You're not making any sense," Ginny whispered, knowing she was also repeating words from their previous conversation. But it was true, it had to be true, there were no other options. He _must_ be just spouting nonsensical things to her. There was no possible way those quotes had anything to do with anything. There was just…no way.

Ginny arrived in the kitchen, her heart racing. George had, after all, seen her scream at her broom and run away. And Harry was obviously beginning to worry about her. He was suspicious of something. But she didn't dare to hope that either of them suspected anything that was true. Most likely they suspected her of being mad.

Oh, how she ever wished she were mad.

She looked around the kitchen, and instead of tensing for an onslaught of questions, she tensed with surprise. Everyone was sitting at the kitchen table – _everyone._ Her mum and dad, Ron, Percy and George. Even Harry and Hermione were there, grinning up at her.

"Good morning, Gin," greeted Hermione.

Recovering, Ginny managed to force a small smile. "Morning, Hermione. It's good to see you." She was happy to see Hermione. Relieved, really – she didn't think her mother would ever let her have company again.

Speaking of which, her mother seemed overly cheerful. She'd immediately stood when Ginny arrived and filled a plate with sausages, fried bread, bubble and squeak, grilled tomatoes, fried eggs, baked beans, hash browns, bacon and fried mushrooms. And she did so while _whistling._

"Have a seat, Ginny," she said, pulling a chair out at the table for her daughter. Ginny walked over and took the seat, and noticing the cup of still-steaming-hot tea and glass of orange juice filled with ice. She now smiled genuinely and took a few scalding gulps of the tea.

"Thanks, mum," she said, looking across the table as she picked up her fork. "Breakfast looks great." It was far more than she could ever eat, but it _smelled_ incredible. She took a bite of the eggs and marveled at how good food tasted. She'd barely eaten the last few days and knew better than to eat too quickly, lest she give herself a stomachache, but it was so tempting to just scarf everything down.

Ginny sat across from her parents, with George and Percy on either side of them. Beside Percy sat _Ron_ of all people, and by him sat Hermione. Next to George was Harry, leaving Ginny sitting between her best friend and her boyfriend. If she could even call Harry that anymore.

A part of her wanted to break up with him just to save him from Riddle.

Suddenly, she felt as though a wave had crashed over her body. At first she looked down at her body, half-expecting to see ocean water soaking her clothing. But it wasn't cold water seeping through her skin…it was something else that was somehow both icy and burning at the same time. It threatened to choke her to death, and it's grip tightened around her chest. She felt as though she would vomit from the disgusting feeling inside her, and the dizzy spell didn't help any. Her skin was crawling, like there were thousands of tiny spiders crawling over it. She was just so filled with…with…

Complete and utter _hatred._

She could _feel_ Riddle's hatred of Harry, and it choked her. It's strength was incredible, and never before had Riddle been able to manipulate her emotions like that. It was completely terrifying.

She set aside her fork and drank some of the juice, and she was sure that George noticed how her hands shook as the wave began to subside.

Maybe she _wouldn't_ break up with Harry. That was obviously what Riddle wanted from her. Maybe she would just tell –

_**Your King is in check, Ginevra. Remember that.**_

Ginny decided it was best to stop thinking and focus on eating. She took a bite of the grilled tomatoes.

What was really incredible about everyone being at the breakfast table was that no one was fighting. Ron and Percy seemed to be standing each other's presence, though they wouldn't look at each other. Her mom still looked as though she hadn't slept but she wasn't snapping at anyone. Her father even looked a little rosy-cheeked. And they were having an _actual_ table conversation – something about gnomes in the garden again. Was everything getting better? And how could that happen overnight?

It was all very strange.

"And there are doxys in the attic again," her mother was saying when Ginny began to focus on the conversation, "So I'll need someone to go out and buy some doxycide."

"Well Harry and I are needed at the Ministry," said Hermione, "and the Daily Prophet wanted to interview Ron again."

"You've already got me and Percy clearing the garden of gnomes," laughed George. _Laughed_. "You're not making me go to Diagon Alley too."

"Well your father has to be at work and I have other errands to run…" sighed Mrs. Weasely. "I suppose Ginny will just have to do it."

Ginny choked on the fried bread. She took a few gulps of tea to wash it down before gasping, "Me?"

"Well I need _someone_ to get it," Ginny's mum said, setting down her mug of tea. "And you haven't wandered off in a while. It'll be healthy for you to get out of the house for a while, and I'm sure I can trust you to come straight back."

Ginny stared, wide-eyed. How had this happened? Just yesterday she was sure she would be locked up in the house for months. What had changed so quickly?

But she wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. She _desperately_ needed out, and this temporary lift of her grounding seemed her best chance.

"Okay," she said, almost hesitantly.

"Great," said her father, glancing at her with a slight grin. "You can go by Floo powder so you can get there and back faster."

"While you're there," continued her mother as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a shopping list written on a piece of parchment. "I also need you to stop by Scribbulus for some ink and a peacock feather quill, Eeylopes for some owl treats…lets see…tail-twig clippers, a revealer and spellotape at the junk shop, Potage's cauldron shop for a new cauldron – the bottom is burnt on ours, make sure the new one is pewter. Also drop by one of the book shops for a copy of Enchantment In Baking, Encyclopedia of Toadstools, and Olde and Forgotten Bewitchments and Charms. And if you can, find a flower vendor for some new flowers for the table."

Ginny blinked as she took a bite of her eggs, then set down her fork to accept the list her mother was passing to her. It was quite a list, considering she was originally just being sent for doxycide. Had her mother really not had time to buy these things? Did they really need a peacock feather quill or Olde and Forgotten Bewitchments and Charms?

Something strange was going on. She just wished she could figure out what it was.

When breakfast was finished, Ginny grabbed her purse and put on some shoes, and wondered how on earth she was going to carry all those items back by herself. Her father gave her the money for the items, and slipped her a few extra sickles so she could visit Florean's for a double scoop of pistachio.

With everything she needed for a day at Diagon Alley, Ginny stepped into the fireplace and used the Floo Powder to travel to the grate in the Leaky Cauldron.

* * *

Molly Weasely was clearing the table of the breakfast dishes, most of which were still completely full of food. Her husband had gone upstairs to search Ginny's room, and her sons, Harry and Hermione were in the next room. She could hear their conversation, and turned to watch now and then.

"She seems fine today," said Percy, a little gruffly as he collapsed on the couch. "She bathed, ate, dressed…she even left the house."

Ron gritted his teeth, causing his jaw bone to jet out a bit more than it ought to. He stuck his hands roughly in his pockets. "You didn't hear her on the stairs, Percy. She was talking to someone who wasn't there – asking if it wanted her to kill herself."

Bill, who was sitting on the other side of Percy, sighed as he rested his head in his hands. They were losing Ginny to madness. He had lost Fred…and now he was losing his little sister. It was too much.

Ginny's father came down the stairs. "I found these," he said, holding up some papers that were completely covered in ink writing. "I don't know what they mean."

Hermione took the papers and examined each side. "It's the Lady of Shalott," she said as she handed them to Harry. "An old Muggle poem about a woman who is cursed to live in a tower and never look at the outside world. When she does, she dies."

"Some of this repeats. She wrote this one part…'the curse has come upon me'…over and over and over again," said Harry, and everyone noticed his voice catching. He passed the papers to Mrs. Weasely when she stepped into the room and pretended to adjust his glasses as he wiped a tear off of his face.

"So what do we do?" asked Percy, his voice nearly devoid of emotion.

Bill stood up from the couch, and folded his arms across his chest. "We save her."

"How?" asked Ron.

"St. Mungo's," said Harry. "I already contacted some healers who think that the stress has gone to her head. They said it's pretty common for people in Ginny's situation to have hallucinations. They also think a curse may have gone astray and hit her and messed with her mind."

"The sooner we get here there, the better," said Molly Weasely, and her husband nodded in agreement.

"I'll go talk to them about when we can bring her in," said Arthur, picking up the bowl that held the Floo powder. "If it's the stress, that should be able to be fixed right away. If it's a curse…"

"It'll be fine," insisted Hermione. "I'm sure there's some kind of magic to reverse it."

Arthur nodded, though his face was still pale. He knew better than to believe that everything could be fixed with a bit of magic. Magic was what had done this to his daughter.

With a grim look on his face, Arthur stepped into the fireplace and headed for St. Mungo's. After he left, Harry and Hermione used the fireplace to burn the papers containing six copies of The Lady of Shalott. Ron and Percy went to de-gnome the garden, only bickering under their breaths. When the papers were finished burning, Harry and Hermione went to the kitchen to help Mrs. Weasely clean up the breakfast mess.

Only Bill remained in the sitting room, standing still with his arms folded across his chest, pale and unmoving. He was still there when breakfast was cleaned up and Hermione and Harry left. He was still standing there when Percy and Ron came in, apparently intent on settling which of them was better at Wizard's Chess. He was still there when his mother went upstairs to her room.

It was two hours later, when he realized that his sister would be home soon, that he left the house. Maybe walking would be a good thing for him. Maybe the movement of his body would spark the movement of his mind.

* * *

It took Ginny three hours to get everything at Diagon Alley, and most of that was spent attempting to carry all the damn things she'd had to buy. The cauldron was especially difficult to move around, and she'd had to use a levitation spell to get it to follow her back to the Leaky Cauldron.

Overall, though, it was a fairly pleasant trip. She'd gotten two scoops of ice cream – one pistachio, one chocolate chip – and sat down to relax and enjoy it. It had been…maybe _years_ since she'd had ice cream. Once upon a time, it had been her favorite thing about Diagon Alley, when her family could afford to buy a scoop each for their kids. Now they could probably buy the place, if they had a mind to do it. Helping to save the world came with a rather nice paycheck.

After the ice cream, it was nice to look at the shops and mingle with people again. She even saw Dean Thomas, and managed to have a short but happy conversation with him. He'd always been one of the bravest boys she'd ever known, and she admired him for it. She finally mentioned it to him while they stood in line to buy books. He laughed the compliment off, and said that though Ginny was great at seeing the way people really were below the surface (he added that he supposed she got that trait after 'that mess' in her first year) she had to be wrong this time. But Ginny still remembered his showing great character in so many situations. He never once screamed at her when Ginny broke up with him to be with Harry, he made friends with 'Loony' Lovegood easily, he always believed in Harry and he wanted to help fight during that last awful battle against the Death Eaters, even though he didn't have a wand. He was, in many ways, Ginny's hero. Her head started to spin when she noticed the books he was buying were on pregnancy, and she only managed a semi-enthusiastic hug before he wished her a good day and ran off to be with his wife.

After that was when Ginny did most of her shopping, and was extremely pleased by the silence in her head. Tom didn't speak once during the trip, at least not until the very end when she spotted some roosters in the window at Magical Menagerie. Then he began talking about the night he'd controlled her and made her kill the roosters. She tried to drown him out by humming the little tune her mother had been whistling that morning.

When Ginny finally got back home, she felt…refreshed. Today had been a better day than many of the ones she'd had before. She had taken a bath, gotten dressed, left the house, enjoyed ice cream, talked to an old friend…everything felt almost normal.

Except that the house was completely silent. Confused, Ginny quickly put down her purchases and looked at the clock in the sitting room. Ron, Bill, Percy and her mother were all outside. Her father…

Her father was at St. Mungo's.

Ginny felt as though something were crashing over her head, though she wasn't sure what it was. It was like a wave of water that washed over her and now she was drowning. Drowning in sheer panic. But she recognized this feeling now. This feeling didn't belong to _her._ It belonged to Tom.

But Ginny herself was relieved. Maybe her family knew that something was wrong with her. Now they could help her! Now she could tell them what was happening, and they could find a way to be rid of _him_ without her needing to end her own life.

_**Don't you understand, Ginevra?**_ Tom's voice remained calm though it had a hint of anguish to it. _**They will never believe you. They will lock you up forever. Completely alone – with only me for company.**_

"I thought that was what you wanted. And besides, they wouldn't do that," she breathed, but suddenly she wasn't so sure. The only way she had been able to prove to herself that Tom Riddle was really inside her was by realizing that she didn't know divers couldn't walk on land and therefore couldn't have told herself that. How was that going to prove anything to her family, or to the healers? For all they knew, she'd charmed the bird herself. For all they knew, she'd always known divers couldn't walk. What proof could she really give them that she wasn't just hearing voices?

_**Do you understand now the danger you are in? Be careful of your movements from now on, my Lady of Shalott. If you leave the safety of your home, you could easily befall the same fate. Be careful not to set any other pieces of this story in motion.**_

It might have been the most he'd ever said to her at once, but it was also the most confusing thing. What movements of hers had caused this danger? How could leaving her house kill her? What pieces of what story could she set into motion? And how?

Did Tom mean that if she tried to tell anyone, she could die? That going to St. Mungo's would kill her? Or that somehow…_could she hurt someone else_?

It worried her a little that she kept referring to him as 'Tom' now.

The door to the kitchen swung open, and Ginny quickly turned from the clock.

Ron rushed into the sitting room, unusually pale, with a tint of green in his cheeks.

"Ron?" asked Ginny, confused. "Whats wrong?"

"You need to come with me. Right now."

* * *

The body was found floating face-down in the nearby lake. It wore a pair of dark wash jeans, a grey Tshirt with some rock band's name printed in black lettering all over it, and hiking boots. A cowboy hat floated nearby. When the body was rolled over, it revealed a young man of maybe twenty years, with unruly black hair, green eyes and wearing a pair of familiar glasses. The part that stood out most about the corpse was the lightning-shaped scar across it's forehead.

It wasn't Harry. When Ginny arrived Harry stood nearby the lake, being interviewed by Aurors. But still, seeing the face of the person she loved most in the world on someone who was dead caused a sudden and intense shock of pain straight to her heart, and she couldn't stop herself from sobbing.

The body belonged to a Muggle hiker, who had gotten separated from his group a day earlier. Obviously, some witch or wizard had captured him, brewed the Polyjuice Potion using something from Harry, and force-fed it to the poor man. And then killed him using one of the Unforgivables.

It was a warning. A warning that Harry was in danger. A warning that the person who wanted him dead could get close enough to take his hair.

Tom Riddle had continuously reminded her that he had controlled her in order to kill roosters. And he had proved that he could control her now.

Oh, dear God.

Was it her? Had Tom used her to secretly brew the potion, feed it to the man and then kill him, and dump his body where he was sure to be found?

Was Tom showing her that he could use her to murder Harry any time he wished?

_**Checkmate.**_

* * *

**Artificial: **A great big 'good job!' to linnfromia for catching that Tom was tricking Ginny into trusting Shikoba. So…good job! xD Please review!


	12. Lady of Shalott

**A/N**: I come bearing good news, and bad news. The good news is my other major fanfiction project, Isis, is done for now. The bad news is, I have another fanfic I want to start publishing in March (as it involves Hunger Games). So I have more time to dedicate to this…for a while. It'll stay my main project until it's finished, though.

With that said, I'm so sorry for the long wait and I hope it won't take me that long to churn out a chapter again.

Also, please note once again that I do not own 'the Lady of Shalott', as it was written by Tennsyon. Nevertheless, it's used liberally in this chapter. 'Lancelot and Elaine' is also by Tennyson. I tried to sum it up in here, but I read the poem about five days ago and I might have gotten some details wrong. Sorry if I did!

Enjoy.

* * *

"_I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity." – Edgar Allen Poe_

* * *

Ginny held onto the handle of the suitcase a little tighter. "Are you sure about this, Harry?" she asked as she set the suitcase down in front of Ron's door, the edges of it making a faint 'clink' sound on the hardwood floor.

"Yeah," said Harry, swinging another bag off of his shoulder, "I feel safest here."

"But at Sirius's old place you could hide better-"

"I'm not just gonna keep running away, Ginny," he said, and then smiled weakly. "Besides, now we can spend more time together."

She bit the inside of her bottom lip for a moment. How could she possibly tell him that the safest place for him was far away from her? That she may have been responsible for the death of the hiker…for the threat on his life? How could she explain that her boyfriend needed to be far, far away from her?

Instead, she smiled. "That is good."

Harry nodded, and reached up to push his glasses and little further up the bridge of his nose. He leaned against the doorframe a little, slipping his hands in his pockets. No matter how much he stared at her, she couldn't look him in the eye. Instead, she stared at a little freckle he had right between his eyebrows.

"Hey, Gin…" he said slowly, drawing each syllable out as he considered his words. Her eyes looked into his for only a second, then back to the freckle. "I know you've been going through something lately…and…well, you know you can talk to me about it. Whatever it is."

_I can't, Harry. I wish I could._ She forced a smile again. "I know. I'm fine now, promise. I was just…upset. You know how my family has been since – since."

Harry nodded, but doubt remained on his face. "I know. Things'll get better, Ginny. You just need to give it time."

Ginny nodded. "I know. But why are we talking about me? You're the one that just-"

Harry waved his hand dismissively. "I'll be fine. I'm sure it's just some leftover Death Eater or other that doesn't have the power to actually try anything."

"He killed someone, Harry."

Harry frowned, standing straight again. He couldn't look at Ginny now, and instead focused on the grains in the wood of the floor beneath his feet. "I know. And I feel…terrible. I'm angry someone got caught in the middle, that people are dying for me all over again." His voice built with anger and frustration with each word. "It's not fair to anyone, especially not to that muggle hiker. But…I honestly believe we're safe. The Ministry is setting up a barrier, and we all have first hand experience. I defeated Voldemort, Gin, with everyone's help. I don't think any Death Eater is foolish enough to believe he can take us on when his master couldn't."

Ginny shrugged and waited for Tom to say something. There was only blissful silence. There had been for hours now.

"I guess you're right. I just don't think we should be too egotistical about it. That's when we'll be the most vulnerable."

Harry nodded, agreeing. "I don't mean to be egotistical."

"I know."

This time the silence was awkward.

"Well, I'm tired," said Ginny, a yawn fighting its way through a second later to show it was true. "I'm going to bed."

"Goodnight, Ginny," said Harry, kissing her on the cheek. She hugged him quickly.

"Goodnight," she said, and headed to her room, a little disappointed that he hadn't even tried to give her a proper kiss this time.

* * *

After washing her face and brushing her teeth and changing into a black nightgown, she went back to her room and closed and locked the door.

"On either side the river lie, long fields of barley and of rye… that clothe the world and meet the sky," she said as she folded her robes and put them in her laundry basket, her lips moving almost of their of volition. "And thro' the field the road runs by, to many-tower'd Camelot. And up and down the people go, gazing where the lilies blow, round an island there bel-"

Ginny stopped when she realized what she was saying. "…Was that you, Tom? Or was it me?"

No answer. Of course, he was never keen to answer when she actually wanted him. It was only when she didn't want him -

_**Are you saying that there are times when you want me, dear Ginny?**_

"_No_," she spat, pushing Shikoba aside so she could crawl into bed. "I _never_ want you here. I wish you would just fully _die_ and leave me in peace."

_**Then why do you speak to me?**_

"Good question," she breathed. She turned out the light and pulled the cover up to her chin.

"Willows whiten aspens quiver little breezes dusk and shiver…Willows whiten aspens quiver little breezes dusk and shiver…Willows whiten aspens quiver little breezes dusk and shiver…" she mumbled as her eyes closed. She sighed, then bit her lips closed so that they would not move again.

She rolled to her side and felt Shikoba settle in beside her, then tried to clear her mind. But the evening had been too horrific and she continued to have flashes before her eyes of the hiker's bloated body bobbing in the water. With a sigh, her eyes snapped open and she reached onto her bedside table. She used her wand to light the candles, and then lay in bed perfectly still and stared at the flickering flames.

"Tom…" she began, and then realized what she'd said. "Riddle, I mean."

_**Yes, Persephone?**_

She growled in the back of her throat at the nickname, but said nothing about it. She wanted an honest answer and being angry would just encourage him further.

"Did you intend to make me a horcrux?"

She watched as the tiny flame of the candle closest to her flickered with every breath she exhaled, and waited for an answer. She counted each breath and as she inhaled her fourteenth one, she realized he had no intention of answering.

"Look, can you just-"

_**It was a happy accident.**_

She wasn't very happy about it. But at least he'd responded, and it was good to know that Voldemort hadn't intentionally latched a piece of his soul onto her. Especially with everything she'd read in those notes…

_**Such as…?**_

Ginny wasn't going to answer that. Instead, she blew out the candles one by one and rested her head on her pillow. But her eyes remained wide open, sleep evading her for the next ten minutes. She felt as though she could run around her house twenty or thirty times and not be tired. But she so desperately needed the break from reality that sleep gave her. She needed to escape into dreams for a few hours. But her eyes remained open. There was nothing she could do to make herself sleep. She could just lie there and see the corpse in her eyes over and over and over and over again.

_**There she weaves by night and day, a magic web with colors gay, **_came Tom's voice in her head, soft and lacking it's usual sinister and sarcastic note. _**She has heard a whisper say, a curse is on her if she stay to look out to Camelot. She knows not what the curse may be, and so she weave steadily. Little other care hath she, the Lady of Shalott.**_

It was strange, but his voice was almost welcome at this moment, coaxing her to sleep. She would probably regret giving into it in the morning. But for now…it almost felt like a lullaby. And as he spoke gently, her eyes fluttered and slowly closed, and her breathing steadied, and instead of seeing death in her mind's eye she saw golden fields and knights walking down a road and women in red cloaks carrying wildflowers.

_**But in her web she still delights to weave the mirrors magic sights, for often through the silent nights a funereal with plumes and with lights and music went to Camelot. Or when the moon was overhead came two young lovers lately wed…'I'm half sick of shadows', said the Lady of Shalott.**_

* * *

Something sounded like knocking, or clinking. What was the sound?

Ginny's eyes opened a sliver, and she saw that her room was still dark. It felt late and quiet, the sort of stillness in the world that only came at three or four in the morning. The strange clicking-knocking sound was coming from behind her – where her wand sat on the bedside table. She moved her hand slowly away from the side of Shikoba – who still slept peacefully – and tried to reach behind her for her wand. But as she touched the wood of the table, she felt vibrations coming from it.

With a gasp, she sat up and turned towards her table. The candles in their glass containers were shaking on the table, as was her wand beside them. As she glanced around the room, she realized that other things in her room were shaking – her hairbrush and lip gloss and a snitch Fred had given her years ago. Everything seemed to be shaking, save for the large pieces of furniture – though she could swear she saw her reflection in the mirror blur.

"_Are you doing this?_" she gasped in fear. She went to reach for her wand, but suddenly found herself flung to the floor. After a gasp of pain, she forced herself to her feet. She looked about herself wildly, trying to find some way of stopping the things shaking, and finally when her bed began to rock she headed for her door, deciding to get help. But the door wouldn't open no matter how she pulled. She banged on it and tried to scream, but no sound would come out of her throat.

Ginny span around and faced the mirror, which was now also visibly shaking. Her heart raced and her head was clouded in terror. Was Tom doing this? Did he have this much power? If he had this much power, then,

"Did you kill the hiker, Tom?"

It almost felt like the room itself was beginning to shake.

"_Did _you kill the hiker, Tom?"

The glass in her window began to rattle.

"_Did you kill the hiker, Tom?_"

In the mirror appeared blood red words.

**She has a lovely face; God in His mercy lend her grace, the Lady of Shalott...**

"TOM!" Ginny shrieked, gripping the edge of her vanity. "Answer me! DID YOU KILL HIM?"

The world began to tilt to the side. The floor below her became uneven, slowly at first, but then quicker. She tried to grab onto the vanity table to stop from losing her balance, but her grip slipped and she fell to the ground. Quickly, she slid across the floor towards her bedside table. She hit it with a 'smash' and slammed her elbow into the already-shaking wood. She hissed in pain, then rolled onto her knees and used her hands to slowly drag herself forward and upward.

Panic filled her chest as she realized just how far the floor had tilted. It was steep and still moving, the floor behind her sinking and the floor ahead of her rising. She could feel a scream building her chest but she had to keep control of her breathing. Climbing back to the other side of the room was a struggle.

It took a while to get back to her vanity, but she managed it without hurting herself. She dodged the chair as it slid down towards the bedside table and used the leg of her vanity to pull herself up. She stood with her feet shoulders' width apart so she could balance, and looked in the mirror. With a deep breath, Ginny moved her arm back, and then swung it forward, pushing her fist through the glass.

Everything stopped shaking at once, and the floor righted itself as though it had never been anything but straight across.

Ginny saw the shards of mirror sticking out of her hand and the blood flowing freely, but the pain didn't register for another full ten seconds. Then she felt as though she would die.

"_Harry_, help me!" she cried, falling to her knees, hitting her head on the chair on the way down. With her uninjured hand she touched her forehead, and was relieved to not feel blood there. But now her head and knees throbbed with hot pain, which was nothing compared to the pain in her left hand. There was blood everywhere. Her arm was bathed in her own blood.

The door swung open.

"Ginny?" asked the panicked voice of George, not Harry. But George picked her up and carried her out of the room anyway, calling for their father. "Ginny, what happened?" he asked when he heard movement downstairs.

"The mirror cracked from side to side," responded Ginny. "The curse has come upon me."

* * *

She laid in her bed the next morning, her hand healed and her mind reeling. She hadn't known what to say to her family. She tried to explain that she'd had a nightmare, that she'd punched the mirror because she'd been a shadow in it. But from their sideways glances she could tell they didn't believe her. Instead, she fell to mumbling 'the curse has come upon me' over and over again under her breath. Finally, when she was healed and her father grew tired of asking what had happened, she was sent to bed. She stayed there with Shikoba at her side for hours, not quite awake and not quite asleep.

At first, Ginny had tried to talk to Tom, to ask if he'd done that to her, if he even had the power…and then, to ask why. But he didn't respond to her weak inquiries.

Mostly, she was just tired. Tired from a lack of sleep, tired from too much stress, tired of being mad, tired of being sane, tired of being apart from Harry, tired of her family having fallen apart, tired of missing Fred, tired of mourning so many people's deaths, tired of the war weighing down on her, tired of having her life ruled by someone else, tired of hearing Tom's voice in her head, tired of _calling him Tom. _Exhaustion crept into her every bone and muscle and bloodstream, but she couldn't sleep. She was afraid to. Afraid if she dreamed, she might see him there.

Eventually the grumbling in her stomach called her out of bed. She slipped on a robe – a blue 'bath' robe Hermione had given her – and headed downstairs, wincing at the cold floor against her bare feet. She smiled weakly when Harry greeted her, and headed to the kitchen to make herself some breakfast. The sun was unusually bright for an early morning, but the sunshine felt nice on her face, even if through the glass. She wondered how it would feel directly on her skin, but was too afraid to go outside.

Tom had said 'If you leave the safety of your home, you could easily befall the same fate' as the Lady of Shalott. She didn't want to risk setting foot outside.

She began to make herself some breakfast, heating up water for tea. But she noticed dishes already being washed. Odd, since her brothers tended to sleep in longer than she did.

Harry walked into the kitchen behind her as she stared at egg shells sitting on the counter. Had they already had breakfast without her? But the sun had only just risen a couple hours ago.

"Afternoon, Ginny," said Harry as her wrapped an arm around her. "Did you have a good nap?"

Ginny blinked and turned her head towards him slowly. "Nap? You mean after…after I hurt my hand last night?"

"No," said Harry, his eyebrows raising slightly. "I mean after you had breakfast with us this morning. You said you were tired and went back to bed."

Ginny frowned, and felt her eyebrow twitch. "This morning? But…it _is_ morning. I just got up."

Now it was Harry's turn to frown. His eyes narrowed behind his glasses as he stared deep into her eyes, almost as though he saw something deep inside them he didn't like. "No, Ginny. You got up this morning and had breakfast with us. You even joked with Ron about Percy's hair."

Ginny swallowed hard. How could this be possible? She'd been in bed all night. A quick glance at the clock told her it was, however, afternoon. Late afternoon.

"…I came down for breakfast?"

"Yeah," said Harry, a little weakly. "You seemed nor-fine. You seemed fine, just tired."

"But I…" she let the sentence drift off as she turned away and tried to remember what it was Harry was talking about. But she was _certain_ she had just been in bed all morning.

_Did you do this, Tom?_ She wondered, but there was no reply. She hadn't heard him speak since the night before.

Ginny felt Harry's hand on her shoulder, gently turning her around. "Gin, are you okay?"

She smiled weakly though she shook her head. "Yes. I'm fine. Just tired. I must have dreamed staying in bed this morning, I just don't remember…"

"Oh," said Harry, obviously unconvinced. But he took a seat at the dining table as Ginny gathered together some leftover breakfast to eat. When she sat across from him with a plate of fried tomatoes, black pudding and baked beans and a mug of tea gone cold, he shifted forward to lean on the table with his elbows. "Um, Ginny?"

"Yes?" she asked, hoping he didn't see the fork shaking in her hand as she lifted it to take a bite of tomato.

"D'you…maybe want to talk about what happened last night?"

She lowered the fork with the bit of red fruit still on it back down to her plate. "I had a nightmare, Harry. It happens."

Harry stood to get a glass of pumpkin juice, just to have something to do. "I know you _said_ that, but most people's nightmares don't involve punching a mirror."

"Well mine did," snapped Ginny, who then sighed. This wasn't what she wanted to happen. She didn't want to fight about it. She just wanted to pretend like it never happened. "I'm sorry, Harry. I just want to forget about it."

"Okay," said Harry, though that was the last thing he wanted to do. He wanted to ask her about the depression, her talking to herself, why she talked about killing herself and obsessed over a Muggle poem. But if he pursued the topic, she would just get upset. And despite the seemingly normal morning – which seemed now a fluke – they had to carry on with their plan.

So he drank juice across from his girlfriend quietly, and she ate her lunch…and then went back upstairs without another word.

* * *

Ginny closed the door behind her and rested her head against the back of the door. She wanted to ask Tom, wanted to demand he tell her what was going on. But what was the use? He finally seemed to decide to leave her alone – right as she _wanted_ him to talk to her.

She waited a moment after thinking that, knowing that normally he'd take the chance to mock her for thinking that she wanted him in any way. But no, there was still nothing but silence.

Sighing, she changed into a pale, thin white nightgown and then walked to a corner of her room, leaned against the wall and slid down to the floor. Shikoba made a long, mournful cry from his place on the bed, but didn't move to comfort her.

Ginny's brain was a mess. She couldn't think straight. All she knew was she wanted it to _stop_. She wanted more than anything for things to be normal.

But she also couldn't stop thinking about that blasted poem.

"She has heard a whisper say, a curse is on her if she stay to look down to Camelot," she whispered to herself, wrapping her arms around her legs. "She knows not what the curse may be and so she weave steadily, little other care hath she, the Lady of Shalott…"

Slowly, she felt her body begin rocking back and forth. "She left the web, she left the loom, she made three paces through the room. She saw the water lily bloom, she saw the helmet and the plume, she looked to Camelot…" she was just saying random lines, they didn't even go together. Her next words came out sharp as she fought back sobs. "Heard a carol, mournful, holy. Chanted loudly, chanted lowly. 'Til her blood was frozen slowly, and her eyes were darkened wholly…"

Ginny's eyes were shut tight, and she never heard the door to her room open. "For ere she reach'd upon the tide the first house by the water-side, singing in her song she died, the Lady of Shalott…"

"Ginny?" Harry whispered softly. Ginny looked up at him, her eyes red and tears falling down her cheeks, but she almost seemed to be looking through him. "Ginny, are you okay?"

"Who is this? And what is here?" she responded. "And in the lighted palace near died the sound of royal cheer; and they crossed themselves for fear…"

"All the knights of Camelot," responded Harry. He'd read the poem over and over and over again after they'd discovered the words to it in her room, he nearly had it all memorized. He walked forward and knelt in front of her, resting his hands on her shoulders. If this was the only way to reach her…so be it. "But Lancelot mused a little space, he said, 'She has a lovely face. God in His mercy lend her grace…'"

_**The Lady of Shalott**_**, **was all Ginny heard, Tom's voice filling her head and that awful wave of hatred crashing over her head again.

In that moment, her hands were around Harry's throat.

She pushed hard into him and they both fell, he backwards and her forward onto his chest. She knelt with one knee on either side of him while Harry just stared back at her, his eyes wide and his glasses askew. It wasn't until she began to push her thumbs into the hollow of his throat that he reacted, grabbing her wrists and trying to push her off of him, but she was stronger than she seemed. When he began to see black spots in his vision he grabbed her shoulders and turned his body, roughly knocking her to the floor.

Ginny shook her head, and then looked back at Harry with wide, surprised eyes. Harry was gasping for breath, but still attempted to speak.

"Ginny – why – you…." But she was on her feet and out the door before he took in another gulp of air.

* * *

She ran as swiftly as her feet would carry her. She wasn't sure where she was going, but she wasn't sure of most things these days. She wasn't sure when the sun had gone down, or when it had begun to rain, or what had made her try to kill Harry, or why she had never noticed a part of Tom Riddle in her before, or what was going to happen next, or of the exact moment her whole life had fallen apart. Everything was uncertainty. And all she wanted was to be far away from everything.

Ginny also wasn't sure when she'd learned the tune she was humming. But this was something she was getting used to.

"_Sweet is true love…though given in vain, in vain,_" she sang between gasps for breath. "_And…sweet is death who puts an end…to pain._"

_**Do you know the story of Lancelot and Elaine? **_

"_I know not…which is sweeter, no, not I,_" she sang instead of responding to the question.

_**Sir Lancelot was a Knight of the Round Table, for King Arthur. You know about King Arthur, don't you? **_

"Yes," she said, slowing down when the house had disappeared behind her. She noticed now that she had run towards the place the body of the hiker had been found. She also remembered that she was barefoot and in a thin nightgown, and the night was wet and quickly becoming very cold.

_**Once, Arthur found a crown with nine diamonds. When he became King, he decided that the way to find the best men in the land was by holding a jousting tournament every year, the prize for which was a diamond from the crown. Lancelot had won each diamond, and saved them to give to the Queen, who he loved in secret and who loved him in return. But for the last tournament, he decided to go in disguise, hoping that the men would fight him fairly instead of being intimidated by his name. So he told the King he was bothered by an old injury and couldn't ride, and then left Camelot and went to a nearby home to leave things that would give away who he was. In this home lived a man and his two sons, and his daughter, the lily maid Elaine. Lancelot did not give them his name, but left his shield in Elaine's care. In return, Elaine asked Lancelot – whom fell in love with – to ride with her favor, a bit of red cloth and pearls. Normally Lancelot would never ride with a token, but thinking it would serve his purpose in tricking others into thinking he was another man, he accepted. With one of Elaine's brothers at his side, he left to join the joust. **_

"_Love, art thou sweet? Then bitter death must be,_" she breathed, as she began to shiver. She wasn't sure if it was from the cold or from her fear that she'd just tried to kill her boyfriend, or from her rage that the person who made her do it was telling her a story.

_**During the joust, **_Tom continued as though she hadn't spoken at all, _**Lancelot was injured. He'd defeated the last enemy right as his enemy's blade pierced his armor. So Elaine's brother took him to a former Knight to be healed. When Elaine heard of this, she begged her father to let her go aid Lancelot. He agreed, and she went to Lancelot's side. With her help, his health greatly improved, and he learned to love her company. When he was healed her offered her anything she wanted in return for her service to him, and she asked for his love. He told her that he had no desire to marry, especially one so much younger than he was. Instead, Lancelot offered to give her lands when she married, so that she and her husband would never want for anything. She refused and returned his shield, and watched as he rode away, going back to Camelot…without giving her so much as a farewell.**_

"_Love, thou art bitter, sweet is…death to me_," Ginny sang, following the water far away from her home. Tom was speaking his story slowly, as though savoring each word. By now she was almost further away than she'd ever walked from home. She wished she had brought her broom so she could fly away instead.

_**Elaine grew ill, and lay in her bed for days. She sang to herself a song of love and death.**_

So _that_ was where this song was coming from. Still, Ginny couldn't help but continue singing the words. Thoughts of the future were trying to force their way into her mind, things like being sure she would now spend the rest of her life at St. Mungo's, or Azkaban. The song distracted her. "_O Love…if death be….sweeter, let me die._"

_**Before she died, she asked her father to do her a favor. She had a letter written for Lancelot, one that spoke of his cruelness to her, of leaving her without saying goodbye. 'I loved you, and my love had no return, and therefore my true love has been my death', it read. She asked that her father be certain it was in her hand after her death. **_

It was then that Ginny spotted a small row boat tied to a willow tree. Not knowing nor caring whose it was, she crawled inside it. She lay down across the bottom of it, which was filthy with dirt and river water and an empty bottle of beer. She took a moment to untie the rope, then let the water carry her away, singing, "_Sweet love, that seems not made…to fade away…Sweet death, that seems to make us…lovely clay._" She pushed her red hair back, out of her pale face and out of the tears and rainwater, and then wrapped her arms around herself for warmth. The temperature seemed to be dropping with every second, and she could see her breath clearly on the air.

_**When she died, they laid her on a boat, covered in flowers, and had their mute servant row her to Camelot where her letter would be delivered. She was as lovely in death as she was in life. And though Lancelot still could not love her, he felt her death sink him in regret, and though he had just given the diamonds to the Queen and she kissed him, he chose to leave Camelot.**_

Ginny licked her lips, which felt as dry as sandpaper. "_I know not which is sweeter, no, not I,_" she sang, her voice shaking.

_**Do you know why I've told you this story?**_

She shook her head.

**_This story was told by Tennyson, who also used Elaine's story to write _The Lady of Shalott. **

Ginny closed her eyes, exhaustion seeping into her every muscle. Her body was shaking with cold and fear, and she felt sick with both, and barely repressed sobs shook her body. _She'd tried to kill Harry._

_**Do you remember what I told you just before you saw the dead Muggle? **_

Again, Ginny shook her head, though the movement was more jerky than before.

_**Be careful of your movements from now on, my Lady of Shalott. If you leave the safety of your home, you could easily befall the same fate.**_

"The same fate?" she whispered, not because she wanted to be quiet, but because she couldn't seem to speak any louder. The sounds of the night could easily be heard over her, the sounds of the water moving and crickets humming and birds – even some divers- crying.

_**She has heard a whisper say: a curse is on her if she stay to look down to Camelot. **_

'_**I am half sick of shadows' said the Lady of Shalott. She left the web, she left the loom, she made three paces through the room. Out flew the web and floated wide, the mirror crack'd from side to side. 'The curse has come upon me' cried the Lady of Shalott. Heavily the low sky raining over towr'd Camelot; down she came and found a boat, beneath a willow left afloat. And at the closing of the day she loosed the chain, and down she lay; the broad stream bore her far away, the Lady of Shalott. Lying, robed in snowy white that loosely flew from left to right – thro' the noises of the night, she floated down to Camelot. And as the boat-head wound along, the willowy hills and fields among, they heard her singing her last song, the Lady of Shalott. Heard a carol, mournful, holy…chanted loudly, chanted lowly…til her blood was frozen slowly, and her eyes were darkened wholly…for ere she reach'd upon the tide the first house by the water-side, singing in her song she died, the Lady of Shalott. **_

"And here I am," Ginny murmured. She had heard_ his_ whisper, telling her not to interact with Harry, not to leave her home, but still she'd fought against him. Then her mirror cracked underneath her fist. And now here she was, dressed in white, lying in a row boat she'd found tied under a willow tree in the rain, singing a song of love and death. And as every moment passed by, she felt more tired and cold. All she wanted was to sleep. But her death song wasn't finished yet.

"_I fain would follow love, if that could be; I needs must follow death, who calls for me; Call and I follow, I follow! Let…me…die._"

And slowly, she fell away from the world.

_**My Lady of Shalott.**_

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**RubyMoon's Secret Place**

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**RubyMoon:** Well, there you go! Please let me know what you think, your reviews mean everything to me. And now I'm off to plot the end of this story since, you know, I should probably know whats going to happen next (I only have the next couple of chapters planned out…erm, oops?).


	13. One Secret

**A/N:** I hope you all enjoyed that almost-two-month-long cliffhanger. xD I have nearly everything in this fanfic planned out now. Except for the ending. I don't have that yet.

Anyway, so here is the next chapter. It's a bit short, but it's where the plot begins to move forward.

Enjoy!

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There was nothing. No dark or light, no hot or cold, no joy or suffering, no life or death. There was only existence, and this was an existence she was not yet aware of. It took time, but slowly, slowly, she became aware of her own existence. She could feel her own body, the sensation of her fingers and a sharp chill in her toes. And then – more slowly – she realized she could feel something rough around her. Wood. She was lying on wood.

Ginny opened her eyes and blinked a few times, trying to clear the dark film from her eyes, but it wasn't film. It was night, and the darkest part of night. The moon and stars had disappeared from the sky, covered by thick clouds. The air was chilled with a hint of moisture. The smallest of raindrops fell from the sky, yet she was soaked. She must have been lying in that boat for quite some time.

The boat had traveled quite a ways. She was so far she didn't recognize the landscape. There were thick trees around the bank, with ancient, thick and twisted trunks. Some were full of dark leaves that blocked her view of the sky, and some were empty skeletal arms reaching up to the clouds. She couldn't see more then a few feet into this strange wood.

Ginny sniffed, trying to keep her nose from running. There was a scratchy feeling in the back of her throat that told her she'd earned herself a cold for sleeping outside in the rain, in nothing but a thin white gown. Realizing what she was wearing, she quickly looked down, then closed her eyes in embarrassment when she realized her nightgown was now see-through. She hoped no one had seen her – it would be humiliating.

But at the same time, she needed to find someone. She didn't know where she was or how to get back. Surely Harry would be worried –

_Harry. _She'd tried to kill Harry. He must hate her now, actually. Or think her completely mad.

But it wasn't her fault! It's wasn't her fault! It was thanks to Tom. Tom's anger and hatred of Harry had filled her so completely. He'd used her body to strangle Harry, wrapped her hands around his throat. It wasn't her fault. But how could Harry ever understand that?

Ginny pulled her legs in and sank her head onto her knees, and cried. What was she to do now? What was going to happen to her? She didn't even know how she was going to get back home…

She sat there in the boat, crying as the rain went from a light sprinkle to a harder fall. The ice cold drops nearly felt like they were piecing her skin. With a small sob, she looked up and glanced around her, trying to figure out a way home. She could push the boat back, but there were no rows. And she wasn't sure which direction she'd come from – the boat could easily have turned without her noticing.

As Ginny peered into the dark wood, she noticed a light shaking towards her. It rocked back and forth and was faint – a lantern. Someone was holding a lantern and coming to the edge of the river.

Carefully, she stood and wrapped her arms around her front, hoping to protect her modesty and her arms from the cold. As the man holding the lantern stepped into view, she noted his chocolate-colored goatee and hair that had strands of silver in them, and the lines in his otherwise clear skin.

It was Hades.

He approached the edge of the riverbed beside the boat and took note of her wet hair and shaking knees before speaking.

"And what are you doing out here, Weasely?"

"I-I-I…" her voice was difficult to use. Her throat ached and her voice felt like it was frozen and needed warming up before she could use it properly. "I…w-was-was j-just…" her voice was coming out tight and quiet, but she couldn't force much more sound out.

"You know there's a search party out for you?"

Ginny blinked. A search party? She'd only been gone the night. Although, considering how she'd left, maybe it wasn't that surprising.

"I f-f-fell asleep in-in this b-boat," she stuttered. She lifted a hand to her lips and felt how cold they were, how frozen they felt. Likely they had a hint of blue to them now. She was just beginning to realize how cold she was, how thoroughly soaked. Her whole body shivered violently, from her head to her toes. No wonder she was stuttering.

"You fell asleep?" Hades looked unsure, and moved a step closer to peer into the small rowboat. "In this tiny thing?"

"Y-yes."

"For two days?"

Ginny felt the cold sink to her core. "F-for w-w-what?"

Hades glared up at her. "You've been missing for two days. When did you fall asleep?"

"I-I…j-just after I l-left-left," she muttered. She moved to get out of the boat, and nearly fell face-first into the edge of the boat due to her legs locking up. Hades grabbed her shoulder before she fell, then set down the lantern and picked up her. He set her back on the solid ground and only let go of her when it was certain she wouldn't fall over again.

She looked up at him, a weak smile on her blue lips. "Than-thank you," she stuttered. Hades grunted in response and picked the lantern up again.

"Just after you left, hm?" he glanced at the boat again, than back at Ginny's shaking form. "You slept for two days, then."

"I-I guess s-so…" she muttered, though the idea of it terrified her. What had caused her to sleep so long? But then…then she recalled that originally she felt as though she were dying. Sleeping for two days was certainly an improvement.

"Well, I guess we ought to get you warmed up," Hades said, though his voice sounded rather like gravel. "Don't want you dying of hypothermia, or anything."

It was very strange, having an ex-Death Eater being polite to her, helping her. She wasn't sure why he was…

Wait. Why _was_ Hades out here, helping her?

Shivering, she looked up at him, lines appearing between her brows as she frowned in confusion. "W-why are you h-helping m-m-me?"

A smirk formed on Hades's face as he took his arm and began leading her away from the boat. "Who said I was helping _you_?"

Ginny felt warmth like a wave through her body as adrenalin began coursing through her veins. Something about his tone was…sinister. "Th-then who are you h- helping?" The adrenalin made it easier to speak.

Her heart dropped when Hades wrapped an arm around her waist and gripped her side tightly. He looked down on her, a cruel sparkle in his eye. "The Dark Lord."

Ginny weakly tried to pull away, but she knew it was no use. "What do you mean?"

"I _mean_, I'm doing what Lord Voldemort instructed me to do."

Ginny stopped walking, digging her feet into the soft earth. So Hades began to drag her along with him, seemingly without effort. He didn't look as strong as he obviously was.

She took a deep breath. "But he's d-dead!"

Hades let out a cackle of laughter. "Yes, he is. But he left instructions for me, along with that folder of yours," he said, almost gleefully. "He said that if you were to come for the files, I was to treat you with respect – but to be certain you would not be with Harry Potter."

"W-what?" Ginny asked breathlessly.

"He told me to be certain you were not in a relationship with Harry Potter. I assume it's to make that Potter boy miserable so that he will be easier for another Death Eater to kill," Hades said, shrugging. "All I know was I was to send a clear message that should Potter be near you he would be in danger. That's why I killed the Mudblood hiker."

"_You_ killed the hiker?" Ginny almost shrieked, half with relief and half with terror.

Hades cackled again, the closest she imagined he'd ever come to a full-on laugh. "Yes. And now that Potter and you are no longer together – everyone knows you tried to kill him – I assume the Dark Lord wouldn't mind if I finished you off, too."

Now Ginny bent her knees and hit the ground. She flung herself forward to that Hades stumbled, then she pushed herself back onto her knees and reached for the waist of his trousers, where she could see the end of his wand sticking out. The lantern hit the ground and went out as her fingers clutched the end of the wand, but before she could pull it out Hades grabbed her wrist and twisted her around, flinging her onto her back. She winded and gasped in pain before moving her legs to kick him in the gut. Hades grunted, and then reached for his wand. Instead of cursing her, he jammed the end of it into the hollow of her throat. She choked even when he moved the wand away, attempting to gasp for air but her throat still feeling closed up. It was hard to see with tears blurring her vision, but she could make out the outline of Hades aiming his wand down at her.

"_Ava-_" Suddenly, his wand hit the ground as Hades grabbed his head and fell to his knees, screaming. Ginny wondered for a brief second what had caused his sudden pain, looking around in a panic for where a curse could have come from…afraid it was coming for her next. But then she felt it. Energy draining from her body, feeling like it was escaping her body. Could she be using magic without knowing it? But this wasn't what it felt like to cast a spell…

_**What are you waiting for? Take the wand!**_

Tom! Was he causing the headache in Hades as he had in her? But why? And how had –

_**You don't have time to think, Ginevra. Act!**_

She reached out for the wand and felt relief fill her body when she managed to take hold of the cool, smooth wood and then back away from the Death Eater. She held it up to Hades's face and…stood, shaking, unsure of what to do. Hades glared at her and tried to move forward, but the pain was too intense.

_**Kill him!**_

"I can't!" Ginny gasped.

_**He will kill you!**_

"I won't use an Unforgivable!"

_**Then you'll die! **_

"Of course you won't, you're a weak Mudblood lover who-" Hades began screaming, letting go of his head and getting to his feet.

Ginny closed her eyes tight. "_Accio boat_!" Then she hit the ground.

"What did you just…" The sentence drifted as Hades comprehended what was about to happen. He had no time to react; the boat hit his head with a loud _th-wack_ and he hit the ground. Less than a second later the boat landed somewhere behind her.

Nervously, she looked up at Hades. He was motionless and a stream of blood flowed from his head, but he was breathing. She'd need to get back home and tell people he was –

But she couldn't go home, could she? Whether she'd murdered the hiker or not, she had still tried to kill Harry. They would find out about the voice in her head, only they would assume she was crazy. And since Tom would never leave, she would be trapped forever in St. Mungo's with no way to get rid of him.

_**Do you really want to know how to be rid of me, Ginny dearest?**_

Ginny winced as she pushed herself onto her feet. She hadn't realized how sore her muscles were before…but then, of course they were. She'd been laying basically still for two days. "I don't believe for a second you'll tell me, Tom."

_**What if I were to promise to tell you, right now?**_

"I'd know you were just teasing me," sighed Ginny. She then growled in frustration when she realized that hitting the ground with the wand had broken it in two. She dropped one piece to the ground then threw the other half into the river. "You _never_ tell me anything straight out."

_**Start on your way home. Follow the river to your left.**_

This caused Ginny to pause. Why would Tom want her to go home – back to Harry?

_**Of course I don't want you to go back to him. **_ _**But you must gather some things for your journey.**_

Ginny frowned. "What journey?"

_**You must gather three items. Then you must recite a spell. And then…I will no longer be here.**_

"Why would you help me get rid of you?" Ginny breathed. Shock filled her mind. She couldn't comprehend that he had been here torturing her for so long and now suddenly…he was going to set her free. It couldn't be possible that he was giving her hope. There had to be some catch.

_**Do you think I enjoy being trapped in you head, little Ginny? No. It is time for me to move on.**_

Actually, she did think that he enjoyed it. But she wasn't about to argue. She had hope, finally. She couldn't spend time thinking about what his true motives were. For all she knew, he really _was_ ready to move on.

"What items?" she asked, now moving forward, towards the river.

**_I am not _giving _this to you, Ginevra. There is a price to pay._**

As she turned left, Ginny gnawed on her bottom lip, and realized she was beginning to get feeling back in it again. "I knew this was too easy. What do you want?"

_**One…tiny…little…secret.**_

"A secret?" she breathed, making her way through a thorny path beside the river. She winced as her dress caught one of the bushes and scratched her legs.

_**One secret. One you do not even like to admit to yourself.**_

Ginny bit the nail of her thumb as she walked. A secret? Something she didn't like to admit to herself? Why would he want that?

_**Which is more important – my motives or your freedom?**_

She knew she was being tricked. But she was _so desperate_ to be free, to have her normal self back. Maybe she could fix her life, fix things with Harry, have friends again, help her family heal…

"One secret," she murmured, trying to search her memories for one thing he did not know and that she did not like to think about. There was one secret that was obvious – one she felt he wanted to hear. But he must already know. If she could avoid saying it out loud, then she would.

_**You know what I want you to say. Say it. **_

She shook her head weakly.

_**Say it and be free.**_

She took in a slow, deep breath as she attempted to focus on moving forward. The words sat at the tip of her tongue, refusing to leave her mouth.

_**Say it.**_

"When I was a First Year…I…" she began. Then she decided to just say it quick and get it over with before her indecision and agonizing amused him too much. "When I was a First Year, I was in love with you."

She moved forward without another word, tears of humiliation gathering in her eyes. This was probably what he wanted – her to feel embarrassed, hurt, low. Well, he'd succeeded.

…_**That secret will do, **_he said with satisfaction. _**Yes. It'll do nicely.**_

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**Artificial: **I just realized I did one of my 'old school' ending authors notes last chapter. xD Sorry about that. Well, please review. It encourages me to update faster. Not trying to convince you to review (except I totally am), but being honest. xD


	14. InBetween

A/N: I hate that it takes me three months to freaking update. How lame, right? Jeez.

I promise to try to do better. There's tons I want to write, but I won't let myself do anything else until this is finished. Plus, I kind of want to see what happens myself!

It's going to be harder to write now because my laptop died, so I have to use the family desktop which is in the Living Room of Great Distraction, and also my mother runs her business on this desktop, but I'm going to do my best.

Disclaimer: I still don't own anything that was written about in Harry Potter. All that belongs to JK Rowling. Also, please watch out for American-isims and canon mistakes, as well as possible continuity errors. Sorry for those!

Without further ado – the next chapter! Enjoy!

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The rain was cold and felt more like tiny spears of ice than water on Ginny's unprotected face. It had hailed the night before, and the night before that the temperature had nearly dropped below freezing. Now that a thick fog clung to the ground, the air around her head was a bit clearer. She could see a few feet ahead of herself – just not the ground. She prayed with every step she didn't fall or come across a steep hill unexpectedly. Her face was bare and frozen and would certainly be cut in the fall.

The rest of her was covered by Muggle clothing, so she could blend in better in those little towns she had to pass through. She wore heavy hiking boots and thick wool socks, warm trousers made of some sort of soft yet durable fabric, a white tanktop covered by a dark blue Tshirt covered by one of the scarlet and gold sweaters her mother had made her, and a long winter cloak, the hood pulled over her red hair. On her hands she wore brown dragonhide gloves and strapped to her back was a brown bag filled with other clothing, minimal Wizarding money from her father's wallet, even less Muggle money from her father's collection, her wand, a cotton blanket and some food, mostly things that wouldn't spoil like dried fruit and jerky and pickled veggies. In her left hand, she carried her broom. All in all, she was ready for an adventure – though a bit ill prepared.

Ginny had nearly arrived at her destination, a little Muggle town that was rather old and run-down. She could see the lights of it not far off in the distance, and could already smell it. It smelled of pollution and tobacco and dirt. And as she approached, the buildings were awash in brown, and the road was covered in dirt and grime, and even the lighting was a brownish-yellow. There was so much of the color that it reminded her of a sepia photo her father had shown her once.

Men and women lined the streets in drab Muggle clothing, looking worn and angry. Some shouted at each other in the street, some sat holding signs asking for change, some looked around themselves constantly as though they were afraid of being followed.

Ginny almost fit in with this crowd perfectly. She kept her head low, but looked around herself, in constant fear that Harry or her father or _someone_ would find her before her mission was completed. This was far too important. Her freedom was too important to be stopped before she'd even really begun to work for it.

_**It's tall, four storeys, with a rusting iron gate around it. **_

Tom had mostly been quiet since she'd told him her secret, and Ginny considered this a blessing. She didn't have to deal with his mocking of her, or just the sound of her voice reminding her that he knew now and causing her to blush. He barely spoke, and when he did he only gave her basic instructions – turn left, turn right, make camp, don't look that man in the eye, go to this place or that place. She followed each one unquestioningly, but what choice did she have? She didn't know where she was going or what it was she needed to retrieve. She just knew it was this city and she needed _some _item of his. That was all she needed to know, really. Her focus was on gaining her freedom…no matter the cost. It was probably better if she didn't know.

She walked down the streets for a while, catching the glance of some of the residents but mostly being ignored. They had their own, non-magically altered lives to lead. And so far, there was no sign of Harry or any search party.

_**There it is**_, Tom's voice pointed out. Ginny glanced around herself, and spotted the building he was talking about: A tall, brick building that was only a few redder shades away from being brown, surrounded by a tall iron gate completely covered with rust the same color as the building. The windows were covered by iron bars and boarded shut, and the gate had a chain lock wrapped around it.

"I need to go inside?" she whispered, hoping no one would hear her and think she was a crazy woman walking around talking to herself.

_**Don't be stupid, Ginevra. Of course you do. I'm not asking you to pick up a stone outside of the gates.**_

Ginny frowned, looked around again to make certain no one was watching, then took out her wand. After a quick unlocking charm, she pulled the chain away and pushed the gate open enough to slip through. She winced at the loud '_creeeak_', but no one seemed to care about it. So she began up the broken stone walkway to the door.

"What _are_ you asking me to pick up?"

He didn't respond, and she didn't expect him to.

The doors to the building were tall and made of ornate dark wood. There was a metal sign next to the door, but the words were so worn down she couldn't read them. Without much hope, Ginny tried the handle, and was pleasantly surprised when the door opened without much effort.

The inside of the building was dark, due to the wooden boards on the windows. After closing the door behind her, Ginny lifted her wand and whispered '_Lumos_'. With the tip of her wand lit, she moved in around, trying to see what was in the room. At first, all she could she was layer upon layer of dust. Moving the door had caused some of the dust to spin into the air, and breathing it into her lungs caused her to cough. But when the dust cleared some, she saw that the place was filled with junk. Piles of broken tables, chipped dinnerware, old toys and moth-eaten bedding covered nearly every inch of the floor.

"…Where am I, Tom?" she asked.

_**It was once an orphanage, though not my orphanage. When I no longer lived at my orphanage, they sent what I'd left behind here. Shortly after, the place shut down and it was used as a place to store unwanted items. **_

Ginny blinked and carefully began to move forward. "I'm here to get something from your childhood?"

_**Yes.**_

"This isn't the spell you used last time, is it? When you were resurrected and needed Harry's blood?" she asked, suddenly feeling panicked. Tom could easily use this as an excuse to use her to hurt Harry. And it wasn't possible. She'd give up her chance at freedom before she would hurt Harry again.

_**No, it is not. This is not the same as before. A different spell is needed for a different sort of magic.**_

With a sigh of relief, Ginny moved forward, stepping over a broken lamp in the shape of a teddy bear. "What am I looking for, then? Harry told me you used to take toys from other children. Am I looking for one of those? A yo-yo or a ball or something?"

_**No. I will tell you when you find it.**_

Ginny sighed, looking at the vast expanse of the room, and the stairs that led to three more levels. "Any idea where I should start looking?"

_**Just start looking.**_

With another sigh, Ginny stepped over a pile of holey clothes, and accidentally stepped on an old glass Christmas ornament. With a wince, she lowered the wand so she could see better where she was going. She made her way to a paint-chipped white table that was missing half it's top, and put her brown bag on top of it. She removed the cloak and the gloves, pulled her hair up with a bit of gold ribbon, and then began to make her way to the other side of the room. Carefully, she pulled apart piles of old toys and lamps and bedding, hoping to not get cut or encounter some sort of giant rodent – or worse, some sort of magical rodent. This seemed like the sort of place an ashwinder would lay its eggs, and she didn't want to be here should they set the building on fire. Or worse – maybe a doxy would fly up and bite her. She hated doxies.

But she searched the whole first level of the house and never heard Tom's voice, so she approached the stairs and carefully began to ascend them, biting her lip at every squeak and hoping she wouldn't fall through the rotting wood.

Despite this fear, she paused halfway up the staircase. She glanced downward, then back up.

_**Why have you stopped looking? **_

"I'm in-between floors."

_**And?**_

"I'm not on the ground floor. I'm not on the first floor. I'm in-between. I'm...nowhere." Tom didn't respond to this, so she kept going. "I'm nowhere, and I'm doing nothing, and I'm no-one. Even when I finish going up these stairs, I'll still be in-between. I've always been in-between. In-between a child and a youth, a youth and an adult, not with Harry and with Harry, peace and war, together and apart. Right now I'm between being mad and being sane, between being helpless and saving myself. Between being alone and having my family again. I'm in-between everything."

There was nearly a full minute of silence, and then, _**Keep going.**_

Ginny blinked a few times to clear the tears from her eyes, and kept moving up. She knew how insane she sounded. Maybe it was the part of Tom's soul dragging her down into darkness. Or maybe everything she'd been through had just been too much.

But hopefully soon, she'd be her old, fiery self again. She missed the girl that fought back.

"What?" she asked, spinning around. She'd thought she heard a voice whispering '_so do I_, but no one else was here. And it wasn't Tom...she could recognize when he spoke to her easily.

Maybe now she was hearing voice.

...Though it _had_ started out with her hearing whispers, not his full voice. Was he...was he fading away already?

_**Don't be foolish. Now keep looking! **_Tom's voice snapped impatiently. Ginny swallowed, then reached the first storey. A glance around showed her that this room was very much like the one below, only with more clothes and bedding than anything else. She began looking through the items, occasionally having to cover her mouth with her sweater when the dust swirling through the air completely clouded it. This room took longer, since the piles of cloth piled nearly as high as her waist. But again, whatever Tom was looking for didn't seem to be in here.

On her way up this staircase, she noticed crayon marks on the wall, marking the height of each child in the 'Lion Group'. Ginny smiled at the thought of a lion being an important symbol for other children here, Muggle children with no families. It was like she suddenly felt a tie to them, to Billy the tallest, Oscar and Reece who were the same height and both preferred the green crayon, Adam who was brave enough to use pink, Jake who was only an inch taller than Leah, who was the only girl, and poor little Harry who was significantly smaller than the rest of them. Harry.

Now she felt a pang in her heart for Harry, and she closed her eyes and shook her head, and continued her way up the stairs.

"You know..." she said, as a thought occurred to her. "You and Harry are distantly related."

There was no response.

With a bit of a smirk (a bit of her old self!), she continued. "You are. Through the Peverells, did you know? He's related to Ignotus, you're related to Cadmus. I don't think you're even considered distant cousins, but you do have some of the same blood."

_**Focus on the task at hand, Ginevra. **_She could almost hear the sigh in her voice. With a giggle – which sounded a little crazy to her own ears – she reached the second storey. This room seemed, perhaps, a bit more promising. There were old bedframes, mountains of old toys, more clothing and little arts-and-crafts projects, like a pasta necklace, a half-finished cross-stitched pillow, tie-dyed shirts, a wooden train –

_**There.**_

"There?" Ginny repeated, and she took a few steps towards the roughly-built train, painted green with hints that the wheels and edges of windows had once been silver.

_**That train is mine. Take it quickly so we can collect the next item. **_

He was impatient, but then, so was she. Carefully, she stepped over the other items and picked up the train. She half-expected it to fall apart once she lifted it off the ground, but it stayed together. She brushed dust off of it, was saw a faded 'S', 'Y', 'R' and 'N' painted on the side of it.

"...You made a toy Slytherin train?" she said, and almost laughed at the image of a thirteen-year-old Dark Lord painting a train the colors of his favorite House.

_**I had no choice but to participate in the crafts class. I did what I could to remain dignified. Now – leave this building! **_

Ginny bit her lip to stop from smiling – maybe she was completely mad now! – and held the train under her arm, switched the wand from one hand to the other, and headed back down the stairs, ready to get the next item and be done with this in-between-ness.

* * *

Ginny carried her bag in her arms now, keeping the train safe as she walked the mile from King's Cross to her new location. She knew exactly where this one was, and she had an idea of what it was that Tom Riddle wanted.

The houses along the street she walked grew gradually shabbier and shabbier, from nicely-cut bushes to over-grown shrubbery, from clear windows to brown ones, from well-painted white or grey houses to ones with chipped, ugly bright paint. The smell of trash began to fill the air as piles of it appeared outside of most houses.

Finally, Ginny reached her destination – the small, green Grimmauld Square. And over there, by where two men in long coats stood under a streetlamp was what most Muggles would assume was a mistake: Number 11 Grimmauld Place sitting next to Number 13 Grimmauld place.

But looking carefully, Ginny could see number 12. It was Sirius's old house, where Harry currently lived. She would have to be careful here. Harry could easily be inside. She just hoped – and felt guilty for hoping this – he was at her house, too worried about her to be anywhere else.

Slowly, Ginny began approaching the house, searching the windows for a sign of life. But one of the men under the streetlamp strolled up to her, an alarmingly charming smile on his face.

"'ey there, missy. Yer not Miss Weasley, by any chance?"

Ginny wasn't sure how to answer the question, partially because she couldn't decipher the correct answer from the odd accent and grammar, but mostly because she knew she couldn't tell the truth.

"I-I don't..." she stammered. Damn. She was usually such a good actress.

"That's her, Bobby," answered the other man, approaching quickly. "I recognize her."

But she didn't recognize this man, who was tall and broad-shouldered with long, pale brown hair.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," she responded. "I'm...Amanda. Amanda Greene."

"Nice try, Miss Weasley. I was in your year at Hogwarts. I was in Ravenclaw. We had tons of classes together. You were quite the heart-breaker," said the man, grinning. "I'm Steven Harker. Your family has been very worried about you, Miss Weasley."

She swallowed, her panicked eyes darting from Harker to Bobby and back again. She took a step away from them.

"I know, I just talked to them earlier, we agreed I should stay at Harry's-"

"Now, don' try an' lie to us, Miss Weasley," said Bobby in his unrecognizable accent. "We're 'ere to 'elp you."

Ginny held her breath.

Robert took a slow, cautious step forward. "We're from St. Mungo's."

_St. Mungo's!_

She took another step back.

Bobby glanced at Harker and muttered something out of the corner of his mouth. Something like 'she's going to run'.

Which wasn't far from the truth, at all.

_**They're going to lock you up, Ginny! Run! **_

She threw the bag at the ground to slow them, and turned and began to run. She reached for her wand in her robes, hoping to curse them some way she could get the bag back, get in and out of the house and get away before they could catch her, but she gasped when her fingers closed around empty air. She glanced back, only to see Harker holding her wand. He'd gotten it from her without her noticing! Wandless magic, perhaps?

There was a 'pop' sound ahead of her, and Bobby was there, wrapping his massive arms around her middle.

"_No_!" she screamed. "No, you have to let me go, you have to let me go, you have to let me get my freedom from him!"

"She's hysterical," breathed Harker behind her.

"I HAVE TO BE FREE!" she screamed, her throat already feeling raw. "He'll never let me go, I have to do this, I have to _do this_, I have to get rid of him or I'll never be sane again!"

"D'yeh think we should-?"

Ginny struggled against Bobby's grip. "I'll be crazy forever, please, please, you can't let this happen, you can't _let this happen._"

"I'll do it," said Harker, and she heard him retrieve something from his robes.

"NO! NO! I HAVE TO GET SOMETHING! HE'LL NEVER LEAVE ME ALONE, I'LL BE TRAPPED FOREVER, _PLEASE,_" she screamed, her head throbbing from the noise, her throat hurting from the effort. She felt dizzy and her cheeks were wet with her violent sobs. "**I CAN'T LIVE LIKE THIS, **please, please, if you can't let me get the item, just kill me, just _kill_ me, please, I can't do thi-"

She heard a spell muttered, and everything went dark.

* * *

**Artificial: **Please review, lovely people!


	15. Entracte

A/N: Woo! Another update already! I'm pretty happy with that.

**Disclaimer:** JK Rowling owns everything and everyone. I own nothing, save for this particular idea.

Enjoy, and PLEASE review! I'm putting a bunch of them in my positive thinking journal, and the more the merrier!

* * *

There was a crack in the ceiling. It wasn't a very big one, but it was irritating her. Otherwise, the ceiling was perfectly flawless and white; it was that one jagged crack above her bed that marred it. The purity of the ceiling was _ruined_ by such a small thing. And it bothered her.

She didn't say anything about it to Strout, the motherly witch in charge of the Janus Thickey ward, the long-term ward for patients that had gone a bit nutty. Strout would probably fix it in a second, but Ginny wasn't speaking to her. She wasn't speaking to anyone, and hadn't for the three days she'd been kept in there.

All Ginny had done since she'd been there was stare. Stare at mediwitches, stare at healers, stare at ministry wizards who wanted to know who she'd been shouting about, stare at other patients (including the aging Longbottoms), stare at the small window at the top of the back wall, stare at the ceiling. She hadn't spoken a word. What was the point? They'd only call her crazy. At this point, she wasn't sure they were wrong.

Tom had barely spoken to her since she'd gotten there, and now of all times she most wanted to hear his voice. She wanted him to tell her what to do, to give her some plan of escape. But all he did was assure her he was real and say something about Persephone and a pomegranate.

She'd been reassured by Strout over and over again that her family _wanted _to see her, it was just that they couldn't until she started talking. This made Ginny all the more silent – she wasn't sure if she wanted her family to see her or not. They'd probably try to put up brave faces, act like nothing was wrong as they had all this time. Her mother might cry. And all the while they'd all just think she was completely mad.

Again, she wasn't sure she wasn't mad.

_**I am real. You know this.**_

She let out a breath of air she hadn't realized she was holding. There he was again. His voice reassuring, exactly (he was, after all, the reason she was here), but at least he was there. And he didn't pity her, like Strout and some of the other patients did.

Speaking of Strout, she was standing over her now, the woman's warm brown eyes staring down at Ginny's absent ones.

"Hello there, dear," she said kindly, though a little condescendingly. She treated everyone in the ward like her own child, which wasn't nice when you already had a mother. "How are you feeling?"

Ginny thought this a silly questions to ask. For one, she obviously wasn't going to answer. For another, she obviously wasn't feeling very well. But she waited, knowing Strout would go on in a moment – the woman was very chatty.

"I know you decided not to join the other patients outside for some fresh air – which I think was a very poor idea, you know, fresh air would do you some good, you haven't left this ward for days – but I don't like you just sitting here doing nothing," the woman said, her words spilling out of her mouth almost incomprehensibly fast. "I know you're very sad you haven't seen your family, but I've decided to clear you for visitors! So you'll be able to see some familiar faces!"

Strout said this brightly, and Ginny scowled. She didn't want to see anyone – and more importantly, she didn't want anyone to see her!

"Your boyfriend – that lovely Harry Potter, what a lucky girl you are, he's so handsome and not to mention brave, if I were his age I'd, well, nevermind – is here to see you, and he brought something for you that should help quite a bit!"

_Harry._

Ginny felt a surge of panic, the first emotion she'd felt in that last tree days that wasn't dull. She sat up quickly, and then grasped the edges of the bed when her head began to spin. She hadn't moved much the last few days, and quick movements made her dizzy. Her vision blurred.

When she could see clearly again, she looked around the room, and saw Harry standing by the door. He had a forced half-smile on his face, his glasses slightly crooked. He had obviously been wearing the same robes for a few days now.

"Hey, Gin," he greeted her weakly. Ginny nodded in reply, and he approached the bed while Strout left the room, leaving them alone.

Ginny didn't feel safe being left alone with Harry. Not because she was worried he'd hurt her – but because she was terrified she'd hurt him again. And she couldn't do it, she couldn't bear it if something happened to Harry because of her. She'd put him through enough.

"I brought you some chocolate," Harry said, offering her the candy bar as he took a seat at the end of her bed. She reached out and took it from him carefully, being certain to not put her hand too close to his. Her gaze remained locked on the chocolate bar, her heart unable to take the sight of him anymore. He still had bruises on his throat. She knew someone could have made them disappear easily, but he'd decided to keep them. And she didn't want to know why.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, and they sat there in silence as she started at the chocolate and he stared at her.

She broke off a piece of chocolate and popped it in her mouth. Then she watched as Harry set the wooden train on her bed.

"So Ginny..." Harry began slowly, and then he took a deep breath and forced his next words out. "Why were you carrying this around? And...who were you talking about, when you said 'he won't leave me alone'? Harker told us you were screaming about needing to be from someone. Who was it?"

Ginny took her time slowly chewing the chocolate and considered her response. Things would never get better if she stayed silent. But if she told the truth, things might get worse.

But what _was _the truth? She wasn't entirely sure anymore. Maybe she'd made everything up in her head. Maybe she already knew divers couldn't walk on land, maybe she'd imagined her room shaking, and maybe she'd just made Hades up. Maybe none of it was real. Maybe Tom Riddle's soul wasn't inside her.

What a relief that would be.

Maybe if she insisted it was true, it would be true.

She looked up at Harry, a weak smile on her lips and tears building in her eyes. "It doesn't matter, Harry. It wasn't real. He's not real."

"_Who_ isn't real?"

"Doesn't matter," said Ginny, feeling better now as she bit off another chunk of chocolate. "It doesn't matter, Harry, because he's not really here. It doesn't matter. None of it does. I'm free, and alone in my head, and I was just under too much stress or something."

Harry shifted on the bed, and Ginny noted that he was beginning to reach for his wand.

"Who, Ginny...who isn't real?"

Ginny blinked at him, unsure of why he was reaching for his wand when she was just insisting she was sane. "It doesn't matter. I'm not in-between anymore. I'm not mad. I'm sane. And it's going to be okay. Because I've decided it will be. And because he isn't really here."

Harry was leaning away from her, and Ginny frowned in confusion. What was wrong with him? This was the sort of reaction she expected if she actually_ had_ told him Tom Riddle was in her head. Why would he move away from her if she was saying she was fine?

...And why was it that no matter how far back he moved, he seemed to move closer a moment later? And why was she so dizzy again?

_Oh, no._

Ginny saw her hands at the edges of her vision, slowly moving towards Harry. Her body leaned forward of it's own free will, moving closer and closer to Harry.

Harry's face was too still and unemotional. She could see his worry, his fear. "Ginny, what are you doing?"

"I..." she started, then her body shook with a sob as her mind filled with fear. "I don't know! I don't know why I'm moving."

Harry glanced nervously at the door, and she could practically see the wheels turning in his head. He was going to make a break for the door, to get help.

"Do it, Harry," she insisted as she cried. "I don't know whats happening to me, go get help!"

Harry nodded and began to stand, but he paused a moment. "Gin – it's going to be okay. Just...I might be able to help if you tell me who it is you're afraid of."

"It's doesn't matter, Harry! He isn't real!" she screamed, then she looked to the crack in the ceiling. "YOU HEAR ME? YOU'RE NOT REAL. YOU'RE _NOT REAL!_"

_**Oh, but I am. And I will prove it to you.**_

There was another blur in her vision, and then she was standing between Harry and the door, his wand in her hand and pointed at him.

She took in a sharp breath as she realized she couldn't lower her arm.

"Oh, _God, _please help me..." she sobbed...and then the tears just stopped. Her shoulders ceased to shake, the gnawing feeling in her stomach went away. And her mouth smirked.

Harry stood slowly, staring at Ginny with horror. "...Gi-Ginny, what are you..."

A low chuckling sound came from her throat.

_**I told you my power was growing, little Ginevra. **_

"_Avad_-" her voice began saying the spell without any permission from her, but then stopped. Her arms moved and grasped Harry's wand in both hands, and her muscles strained until it broke in two pieces. Her hands flung the pieces of the wand to either side of the room. "No. This is better."

Harry went pale, and began to slowly move left, towards the beds lining the other side of the room. "Ginny...?"

Her head slowly shook. And then everything blurred again.

The next thing she knew she was _on_ Harry, her legs around his hips and her hands around his throat. Her upper lip was pulled back as she snarled animalistically. Harry toppled backwards, but managed to keep on his feet until he reached a bed, where he turned and fell on top of her. He put his hands on her shoulders and pushed down while pulling himself up. Her hands slipped from around his throat, and her body rested there, breathing heavily.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I don't know what came over me," gasped her voice.

Harry stumbled backwards. "What has gotten into you, Ginny?" he asked, his voice oddly calm.

Her body moved to sit up, and then stand. It moved towards him, but Harry stepped back.

Her mouth smiled mockingly. "Lord Voldemort."

Harry blinked. "What? What are y-"

And then she was on him again, her right fist making contact with his right cheekbone, her left feet meeting the center of his rib cage. She heard a slight cracking sound, and Harry bent over, wincing.

"STOP Ginny!" he shouted, his eyes closed tight. "Stop!"

_I'm trying!_ She thought, but she was unable to say the words. Her mouth wasn't under her control anymore. Nothing was under her control anymore.

Her foot raised and met his knee cap. Harry stumbled backwards, and Ginny's body sneered.

"I thought _you_ were supposed to protect _me_, Potter," she spat, slowly approaching him. She chuckled dryly. "How did the great Harry Potter defeat the greatest Dark Wizard of all time, when he can't even protect himself?"

"What?" breathed Harry, wincing as he straightened. He paused, then questioned weakly, "...Ginny?"

"Yes, _darling_?" her voice asked, full of honey and venom. Then she swung her arm at him, and her nails dug into his cheek and drew blood.

Harry cried out, and then tried to run for the door. Ginny's body cut him off, shoving him to the ground with unnatural strength. She pressed a foot against his throat and began to press down, but Harry grabbed her leg and swung her around, throwing her to the floor. He was up and moving for the door a second later, but again her vision blurred and she appeared in front of him. She growled and launched at him again, her hands gripping his throat as she moved to the right and shoved him against the wall. Her arms pulled back and shoved Harry against the wall again, and then again, and then again. Harry's head hit the wall repeatedly, and though Harry tried to tear her hands off his throat, they stayed put. Her body held more strength then it ever had before.

"G-Gin...w...wh..."

"Because I _despise you_," she spat. She shoved his head against the wall again, and moved to do it again when something sharp entered her upper thigh. Her eyes looked down, and she saw the ivory end of a letter opener sticking out of her leg. Then she was on the ground, her head striking the floor hard. Unfazed, her body moved to pull the letter opener out of her leg, crimson blood dripping off the sharp gold end.

"Ginny, I'm sorry," breathed Harry, and he began to move around her towards the door again. The next thing she knew, she'd jammed the letter opener into his shin. Harry went down, and she pulled the letter opener out only to shove it back into his flesh, this time near his hip. She crawled on all fours towards him and straddled him, pulling the letter opener out again. Harry cried out, and gripped her arms, his nails digging into her arms as he tried to shove her off of him.

She – or Tom, who obviously now controlled her – threw her head back and laughed. Her left hand reached down and removed Harry's glasses.

"I want to see the life leaving your eyes," she explained to Harry.

"Ginny..." Harry breathed, but she could see in his eyes he was beginning to doubt it was really her.

_Please, Harry,_ she begged in her head, _Please see that it's not me._

Harry coughed weakly, then choked out, "Gin, I love you, don't do this."

"Shut up," she hissed. She raised the letter opener over her head, the sharp end of it pointed down at Harry's throat.

_NO!_ she screamed, and tried her best to fight. Her arm shook in the air. _No, please, please no, don't kill him, please don't make me kill him!_

Her arm trembled again, and then a smirk came across her lips.

"It's your lucky day, Potter," she whispered, then moved off of him. She stood, and began limping back towards her bed, dropping the letter opener on the ground but keeping Harry's glasses. "I don't need you to die."

She heard Harry struggle to get on his feet. "HELP!" he shouted at the door, just now seeming to think of this solution. "SOMEONE HELP US! WE NEED HELP IN HERE, PLEASE!"

The bloody tips of her fingers brushed the top of the toy train, and then picked it up. Her blood flowed freely down her arm from a cut she didn't remember receiving, down over the wood, forever staining it.

With the train in one hand and Harry's glasses in another, she turned to face Harry with the smirk still on her face. Her blood dripped to the floor.

"Ginny, are you-"

"It's too late, Potter," said her voice. Then her voice laughed, fully, almost uncontrollably.

Harry began to approach, but Ginny slowly shook her head. "Ah-ah, Potter. You don't want to get too close. You'll have a better view of the show from a distance."

She could see Harry realize that the cold, sarcastic note in her voice didn't belong to her. And slowly, she could see him put the puzzle together.

"...You're not Ginny, are you?"

Her mouth smiled, but didn't move to answer. Instead, her eyes slowly closed, and then her voice whispered, "_Contrarmo._"

A wind picked up in the enclosed space, and the light grew so bright that though her lids were closed everything in the room seemed white.

"GINNY!" Harry screamed.

"_Harry_!" she cried, and felt pure relief when her mouth moved when she wanted it to. And then she felt cold terror. Tom had full control of her at last, control of her body and mind and could have easily killed Harry. But he chose not to.

What hell did he have in store instead?

The light cleared, and Ginny opened her eyes, but they were instantly stinging from the smoke that filled the room. She coughed as heat filled her lungs, and tried to look around the room for Harry.

"Harry?"

"I'm over here!" he shouted, somewhere ahead of her. She reached her arms out, and tried to move towards him through this veil of white. His glasses slipped from her grip as she moved slowly forward.

"Harry?"

"Ginny! Are you okay?"

"Harry, I can't find you!"

"I'm over here, Ginny! Come here!"

She felt tears making their way down her cheeks, but she didn't know if it was from the smoke, the relief or the fear that she couldn't find Harry in this room. "Harry, I'm here, find me!"

"Hold on, Ginny. I'm here, I'm coming."

And from beside her came another voice. "_And I am here._"

Ginny's body turned cold, white and still. She recognized that voice. Oh, she knew it by heart. And it wasn't supposed to be heard on the outside. _It was supposed to be inside._

"Who is that?" asked Harry's voice, still far from her.

Ginny didn't want to know. She didn't want to move, she didn't want to see what she had done. But at the same time...it was inevitable.

With a slow breath, she turned to the side. In the smoke, she could only make out a tall, dark shape. But the smoke was slowly leaving the room through the window, and she was starting to be able to see other features. A small, slightly wide but well-shaped nose. A pair of full, slightly wide and handsome peach-colored lips. Almond-shaped eyes, a strong jaw, high cheekbones. And then she could see black hair falling into the dark, cruel eyes, stark contrast to the pale white skin. Extraordinarily long fingers moved to push the strands out of the handsome face. The familiar face.

It had aged some. It wasn't the youthful face that was burned in her memory, but older, perhaps twenty-five or twenty-six now. But she knew his face anywhere. And she knew even Harry could recognize the cold, high-pitched laugh the lovely mouth released as the smoke cleared more and the dark eyes locked on her.

Tom Riddle was alive again.

"Hello, Persephone," he greeted her.

* * *

**Artificial:** My father came up with the Ginny-versus-Harry duel idea, when I was about three chapters into this. xD So thanks to him for that! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and more so I hope you all kind of hate me for the cliffhanger, haha. Please review, and have a fantastic day/night!


	16. Living Nightmare

A/N: Well, this chapter might betray how long it's been since I've read the books, but hopefully it's all relatively canon and doesn't break continuity.

Thank you for all the lovely reviews, they really make my day and some have made it into my positive thinking journal! I hope you can review this chapter, too, though it's short and there's not much to comment on, haha.

**Disclaimer: **J.K. Rowling owns all save for Lancelot and Elaine, which is by Tennyson.

Enjoy!

* * *

_Do you really think that I will ever let you go_

_Do you think I'll ever set you free?_

_If you do, I'm sad to say, it simply isn't so_

_You will never get away from me._

- Jekyll and Hyde, Leslie Bricusse

* * *

"Who was that?" Harry shouted, but Ginny heard the note of panic in his voice that told her he knew exactly who it was.

Ginny's lips trembled before she spoke. "H...Harry..." she began weakly, then she forced more strength into her voice. "It's Voldemort."

"Ah-ah," chided Tom gently, raising a finger and shaking it back and forth as a way to say 'no, you're wrong'. "Lord Voldemort is dead, remember, precious Ginny? I am not the Dark Lord Voldemort."

"Then who are you?" Ginny whispered as she attempted to take a step back, but her shin hit the frame of the bed and she winced.

Tom smirked. "Tom Riddle, of course."

"But Tom Riddle _is_ Voldemort."

"No," said Tom, shaking his head as he began to approach her. The smoke was clearing quickly, only wisps of it disappearing around his head. "Lord Voldemort _is_ Tom Riddle, but Tom Riddle is not Lord Voldemort."

Ginny blinked, and took a step away from the bed to keep herself away from the voice that had tormented her all this time. "You're not making any sense."

"Not to you, perhaps, not yet. But you'll understand soon enough."

"I don't want to understand," Ginny insisted. Her numbed shock was fading away, being replaced by fear and anger at herself for being tricked like this. Of course the spell wouldn't just _get rid _of him. Of course he would know another way to stay alive. That was what he'd wanted most of all – to stay alive. "I don't want to understand any of it. You're supposed to leave me alone!"

"Now, whenever did I agree to that?" Tom laughed, his eyes narrowing to slits. "I said you would be rid of me – in your head."

With a gasp, Ginny spun around to look for Harry. He was standing, watching in confusion from the other side of the room. But now he seemed to realize that he had to act – and fast. But without his glasses, he stumbled forward clumsily.

"Leave her alone, Riddle! I don't know how you did this, but I – but-" Harry stammered as he ran into a bed.

Tom Riddle laughed. "Yes, very good Potter, will do." It was strange, hearing Tom laughing almost casually as though Harry and he were two schoolmates playfully teasing each other. But Ginny could see the murderous glint in Tom's dark eyes.

"Harry - stay back!" she said, looking from Tom to Harry.

Harry shook his head. "No, Ginny. He's used you to somehow come back. And now I'm going to kill him again."

Ginny heard Tom move closer to her. "With what wand, Potter? And how, without even being able to see me clearly?" He was amused.

Harry ignored Tom. "Ginny, run and get help!"

"No, don't, Ginny dearest," said Tom. She turned to discovered he was standing close to her, so close that she could feel his breath like a breeze over the top of her head. "We have important calls to make."

Ginny's eyes widened and she tried to step back, but Tom grabbed her arm, and in that instant she knew what he was about to do.

Harry seemed to realize it, as well. "Gin, get away from him, quickly!"

"Harry, I-"

And the world swirled together, and she felt like she couldn't breathe. A moment later, she was somewhere else.

She didn't recognize it at first, except that it was some sort of fancy entryway. It had been redecorated since she last saw it, with dark greys and silver and emerald green instead of the scarlet, cream and gold she'd grown used to. The comfortable, homey furniture was replaced by wood-framed, ornate pieces, a little more in the Louis-Philippe style. The windows were covered by large, dark draperies and the room was lit by cold, extravagant brass and crystal chandeliers rather than the faux oil lamps that had lit the rooms with warmth.

Even the smell was different. Before, it had smelled of fresh linen and wood polish and cinnamon; now it smelled of leather and fauna and burning sandalwood.

Ginny's eyes grew wide when she recognized the place. It was the cottage in Godric's Hollow...the place where James and Lily had been murdered by Lord Voldemort.

Immediately after the war, Harry had come back to this place. It couldn't be rebuilt properly due to the dark magic that had torn through it, but he built walls over the holes, cleaned it up, put in a proper garden and the sort of furniture he'd thought his parents would've liked. He had no intention to live there, but he couldn't leave his parents' memorial in such a wreck. It was a nice place they visited together sometimes. But it had all changed now. How could it have all changed?

Spinning around, she saw Tom standing behind her, leaning against the wall and smirking. Her eyes narrowed at him and she reached for her wand, but realized with horror that it was still at St. Mungo's. Desperate, Ginny decided to do the next best thing – lunge at him. She began beating his chest with her sore, bleeding fists, and winced when the deep fingernail marks on her arms stung from the effort.

Tom's laughter should have slowed her, should have told her that what she did to him didn't hurt him in the slightest. But still, she hit him with what strength she had left. After some time, he put his hands on her aching shoulders and shoved her away, with such force that her protruding hip bone hit the table behind her and she winced.

"_Why_?" she cried out, her fiery gaze resting on Tom's white forehead. She was unable to look him in the eye. "Why would you do this? Why am I here, why have you taken me here, why didn't you just _leave me alone?_" What had begun as a choked whisper changed to a harsh, throaty scream.

Calmly, Tom slid his hands in his pockets – it just now registered to Ginny that he was wearing what he might have at the orphanage, a pair of nice but casual black trousers and a button-down off-white shirt, a grey wool jacket and a brown newsboy cap that barely sat over his dark hair.

"Do you remember the story of Sir Lancelot and Lady Elaine I told you?"

Ginny blinked, and then nodded. Yes, she vaguely remembered him telling it to her while she ran from home just after nearly killing Harry. She hadn't paid very close attention, feeling panicked and angry and a little bit doomed.

"The Lily-maid Elaine loved Sir Lancelot, but at first she did not know he was Lancelot," said Tom, moving closer to Ginny. Ginny backed away, and he instead moved around the table, heading through a low archway that led to the sitting room. Ginny followed hesitantly. "She didn't discover this fact until after another knight came and told her. This knight – Gawain was his name – wanted Elaine, but when she spoke of loving Lancelot wanted to know if his pursuit of her was in vain. Do you know what she said?"

"You know I don't," breathed Ginny, watching him casually take a seat on a dark green leather settee that hadn't been in this house a few months before.

He crossed his extraordinarily long legs. "_'I know not if I know what true love is. But if I know, then, if I love not him, I know there is none other I can love.'_" Tom finished the quote with a contented sigh, like someone who'd had a taste of the finest wine. "_That_ is why."

"Stop it!" screamed Ginny, her hands closing into fists despite the dull pain of doing so. "Stop speaking in bloody riddles, I've had enough of it! You're not a voice in my head anymore, you're an actual person now, so _speak_ like a real person _damn it!_"

Tom sat in silence for a moment, his head slightly cocked as though he considered Ginny's anger amusing.

"Very well then," said Tom, and she could hear laughter in his tone, "What she is saying there is that she doesn't know what love is, but regardless there is no one else she could love."

Ginny clenched her jaw, trying not to yell at him again, hoping he would get to the point. "And?"

Tom's narcissistic smirk faltered for only a moment. "And, that quote applies to how I feel about you."

Ginny felt dizzy. Not just dizzy, but sick and wounded like someone had just hit her over the head. Little white spots appeared in her vision. She couldn't deal with this, she couldn't she _refused_ to.

She opened her mouth to change the subject to the first thing that came to her mind, but closed it a second later. The first thing she thought of was to ask him what he intended to do now – not just with her, but with the world. He had life again, and magic too. What was he going to do with it? Was he going to return to his old ways? Form a new army of Death Eaters and once again bring misery to the Wiarding and Muggle worlds alike?

But she was too afraid to ask these questions. If he did choose to kill and torture people again, to tear apart even more families...it would be her fault entirely. Her fault for being so selfish as to be willing to do anything to get him out of her head.

And look where that got her. She still didn't have her freedom, not really.

"Why have you brought me here?" she demanded, moving forward a few steps until she stood in front of the wood-and-glass coffee table. "Why are we at the Potters' memorial cottage?"

Tom stood slowly, his eyes locked on her and finally Ginny had to look him in the eye – though his were dark and looked almost as though he were drunk on power. "This is the last place the remaining Potter will look for us, isn't it? Do you really think he'll expect me to go to the place of Lord Voldemort's first great downfall?"

Again, he was referencing Lord Voldemort as if they weren't one and the same. But there were more important things to comment on. "So...you _are_ kidnapping me? Even now that you have your own body and don't need me anymore, you won't leave me alone?"

Tom smiled, and she could see how he'd managed to charm his professors and classmates so easily all those years ago. "What I told you before is still true, Ginevra – I'll _never_ leave you alone."

* * *

**Artificial**: I hope you'll forgive the shortness, but it's the best place for me to end this chapter. Oh and - if you have any suggestions for a cover, I'd love to hear them. I need the rights to the image, so some sort of stock image idea would be great. xD Thanks! I hope you liked the chapter, and please review! Have a great day/night!


	17. Trapped

A/N: Um, I suck. I should have updated by now. I didn't. I was in a musical and had to live at a friends house half the time, and I went to Las Vegas to see Phantom before it closed, but I totally had time. My laptops keyboard died but I had another one. I have a bunch of bad excuses. But I just suck. I'm sorry.

I'm even sorrier now that it's almost November and I'll be busy with NaNoWriMo, so there probably won't be another chapter until December. I'm disappointed because honestly, this is more of a place holder chapter and things get more fun next chapter, but…well, I'll try to get it out before the end of the month. We'll see.

This chapter feels…kind of soulless to me. Something is wrong with it but I don't have time to rewrite and figure it out. Maybe I'm just out of practice. I hope you'll forgive me.

All that said – please enjoy, and remember that reviews feed the muse!

* * *

Not long afterwards, she found herself sitting on a stool in the kitchen, staring blankly at a raindrop-splattered window. She sat still and quiet, listening to the pitter-patter of the rain and her own sharp intake of breath when her wounds caused her pain.

Tom stood nearby, using both magical and muggle means to heal the wounds her body had received during Tom's fight with Harry. He used a wand that had been concealed in the bread box to cast spells on the abrasions. She considered trying to grab the wand from him, but in her weak state it was much more likely she would just injure herself further. No, it was better to let him heal her and then worry about escape.

She'd tried apparating, of course – but some kind of magic stopped her from being able to leave. It seemed that one could apparate in, but not out. She only hoped there were other ways to leave.

As he healed her, Tom spoke in soft but quick words, explaining things Ginny was sure she'd be confused about if she didn't have more important things to worry her. Things about being in her head, the things he could and did do. Causing her headaches, stretching his power out to cause headaches in Hades, causing the storm that put out the fire when she'd left her candles lit, and perhaps most interesting…

"The maps in the records that you saw," he said, finishing up with the last of her wounds, "Were not maps. I projected the image onto them for your sake. Instead, they were instructions left by Lord Voldemort."

"You're Lord Voldemort," she muttered, more as habit than actually meaning the words. She knew by now that he insisted something was different, but she didn't understand what he meant by that.

Tom only took a second to shake his head, but otherwise didn't respond. "Voldemort had suspected something would happen, though he wasn't sure exactly what. He left behind a list of spells and potions to use in case a piece of his soul survived."

"And it did survive," she said, disgust in her voice as she blinked her eyes and looked at his white face. She couldn't bring herself to look him in the eye, but she stared at his almost unnaturally high cheekbones. "You're the part of his soul he hoped still existed."

Tom turned from her and went to the kitchen sink, turned the water on, set the wand aside and began rinsing her blood from his hands. "The records also contained instructions for Hades, as you know. They said that should Ginevra Weasley ever appear at his door, he was to give her the records and prepare this place as a hideout. He was also to be sure she wasn't dating Harry Potter. Hades assumed that was for the sake of Potter, to break him."

"Wasn't it?" Ginny asked, then as quietly as possible slipped off the stool.

"Perhaps. But there could have been other, deeper motives Voldemort himself-" Tom's words cut off when he turned and caught Ginny by the wrist as she reached for the wand. Ginny immediately kicked his knee, and grinned as she heard the 'pop' that told her some serious damage had been done. Tom winced, but it wasn't until she dropped the wand that he released her. As he moved to pick the wand up, Ginny turned and ran. She propelled herself forward as quickly as her legs were capable of moving her, but she only made it to the entryway when she heard Tom speak, loudly and quickly. He was reciting spell after spell, some she recognized, some she did not. She kept moving anyway, hoping he wasn't cursing her. She reached the door and her trembling hand wrapped around the handle – and the next thing she knew, she was on the other side of the room, her legs a tangled mess on the floor in front of her, her torso arched against the wall, her head aching from where it had hit the wall hard. With a groan, she managed to move her legs back around and under her, and she pushed herself up. Dizzy and stunned, she still moved around the table to the window, and tried to lift it open, but again she found herself flung to the other side of the room and a buzzing feeling filled her limbs as though she'd been electrocuted.

Heavy, steady footfalls told her that Tom had arrived. She could hear him chuckle cruelly. "Care to try again?"

Ginny tried to glare up at him, but her vision was so blurred she wasn't sure if she was staring at him or the fern. "What did you do?" she asked, or tried to. Her speech was slurred so it came out more like 'Wha blib yiw do?', but he seemed to understand her.

In his hand he twirled the wand. "A few protection spells. You can't get out, dear Ginevra. And if anyone gets close enough for you to try to draw the attention of, they won't see or hear you. You could try to undo the spells, of course…but it won't do any good. My magic is far more advanced than yours, thanks to Lord Voldemort."

Ginny blinked a few times and pushed herself back on her feet. She was seeing double and it made her dizzy, and she swayed for a moment and gripped the wall to keep herself vertical. "Why do you keep acting like you aren't Voldemort?" she muttered, still nearly breathless from hitting the wall.

Tom smirked. "Lord Voldemort is dead."

"_I know!_" exclaimed Ginny, finally meeting Tom's dark, sadistic eyes. "I know Voldemort was dead. But here you stand."

"I am not Lord Voldemort," he said, taking a few steps closer to her. He used the tip of the wand to move a strand of red hair from her face. She reached for it, but grabbed at a nonexistent image. She was seeing double again, due to her sudden movements.

Tom stuck the wand somewhere in his jacket, and continued to speak, his voice now calm and even. "I was once a piece of his soul that his memory hid inside you. But after he died, all of the pieces of his soul came together into the last living being his soul remained inside of…you. I have all of his memories and skills, but I was never Lord Voldemort as you knew him. I only used that name amongst school friends."

Ginny blinked, and her vision finally cleared. Now feeling steady, she released the wall and stood as tall as she could before Tom…but he was still much taller than she was, enough to tower over her. She took in a slow, deep breath, gathered her courage and asked, "What do you intend to do now, then? Become Lord Voldemort again? Kill muggles and muggle-supporters? And why am I here, trapped with you? Why not just kill me?"

Tom took a few steps back to lean against the table, his long, small frame still imposing in this casual stance. "Would death be preferable?" he asked slowly. "Would death be preferable to being trapped with me, dear Ginevra?"

"Stop calling me that," Ginny muttered, and then spoke louder, folding her arms across the front of her body, feeling almost safer that way. "And maybe it is," she said. She was sure he noticed her voice trembling, but she couldn't help it. Her blood seemed to run both hot and cold, her mind unsure whether she was terrified or furious. She didn't want to die, but when she was trapped with him in her mind she'd been ready to welcome death to escape him.

"Is it really?" asked Tom, darkly amused. He also crossed his arms, but where Ginny was defensive he was casual and cold. "Would you prefer I cast the Killing Curse now, or later?"

Ginny blinked, not expecting this answer. Why would he go through the trouble of bringing her here if – if…? "I…I don't mean that-"

"Relax, Elaine," said Tom, standing straight and tall again. "I'm merely calling your bluff. You wouldn't die to escape me before. You won't now, though you are just beginning to understand what it is to be trapped."

"_Excuse me_?" Ginny practically growled, clenching her hands into fists. "I was trapped with you inside my head for_ months_! For _months_ I could barely see Harry, barely spend time with my family, barely even _sleep_ without hearing you say horrible things or cause headaches or make me say things I didn't want to. I was the _definition_ of _trapped_!"

Tom gave a chuckle that was empty of mirth and full of a warning of danger. "You do not know the definition of trapped until you've been locked inside someone else's mind, with no body or voice of your own. You could not do everything that you wished, but still you chose when to breathe and what to eat, how to spend your time and where to look. I had no power of my own besides speaking to you and occasionally making you feel and say things. I could barely even _appear_ before you!" In Tom's smooth voice she heard a note of rage she'd only heard before when he spoke about Harry. His eyes narrowed at her to slits that reminded her of a snake. As he slowly approached, she instinctively backed away as though backing away from a flame that burns too closely. "All I was during that time was a voice inside your head with few ways to show I had a will of my own. You do not know trapped until you can make no decisions, have no freedoms. Even now you can choose to move away from me. I could not move from you no matter how much I wished to."

Ginny tried to speak, but the sound got lost in her throat. Attempting to breathe evenly, she stared deep into Tom's dark eyes and recognized his fury, his hatred of living in her all that time and his disgust at the memory of it. "Then why am I here? Why are we trapped together again?"

Tom sighed and the heat left his eyes. "You know the reason."

"No, I _don't_," insisted Ginny, attempting to take another step away from him but realizing she was up against the wall. "I don't know why you hate being stuck with me yet choose to kidnap me and keep me with you. Stop speaking in riddles and just _tell me_."

"Because _I can't escape you,_ you damned woman, you Delilah," Tom roared. The fire in his eyes returned, and she could see his hand moving towards the pocket in his jacket that held the wand.

Quickly, Ginny darted to the left and ran around the table, then through the entry and up the stairs. She found her way to the attic – as far from him as she could get – and closed and locked the door. With a quick glance around at the newly cleaned attic, she found most of the furniture Harry had bought. She moved a plush red armchair in front of the door, and then moved further into the scarlet-and-gold covered room. Between gold lion statues and a large cherrywood armoire, she found the red-and-gold pinstriped loveseat Harry had loved the most. She crawled into it and took two red velvet curtains that had been draped over the side and covered herself with them. They still smelled like the cottage when Harry had owned it – like cotton and cinnamon and pine-scented wood polish and apple cider. She took in deep breaths of it and with her eyes closed she could almost imagine her and Harry were just visiting the place one day as a sort of vacation, like they'd planned to do when Harry rebuilt the place. Visions of a life that would never be hers flashed before her eyes, of her and Harry roasting marshmallows in the fireplace, folding air-dried sheets together, sitting curled up together in this chair watching muggle television. It all was too sweet to ever exist in this cruel world.

Ginny began to feel tears prick at her eyes when there was loud movement downstairs – a door opening and closing. She hoped briefly that it was Harry, that he had found her, but realized that Tom's spells would make that impossible. The lack of struggling sounds confirmed this. But what did it mean, then? She threw the curtains aside and crawled off the loveseat, moved the chair and left the attic. Slowly, she looked in each of the bare upstairs rooms, and then moved downstairs. He was nowhere to be found, and she couldn't see him outside any of the windows.

"…Tom?" she called out, trying not to sound hopeful. There was no answer. He'd left her alone.

Immediately, Ginny ran to the front door, but was again flung against the wall. Once she recovered, she tried to open a back window, but soon found herself sliding across the floor with alarming force. She went back up into the attic and there found a hammer. She tried it on the window glass again and again with such force that her shoulder ached from the impact – but there wasn't even a crack in the glass. Desperate, she kept attempting to break the window until the hammer itself came apart from the handle. Angry and disappointed, she flung the handle at the window, but it bounced off and hit her in the chest.

When the pain in her chest had gone from severe throbbing to a dull ache she tried her one, last hope. She opened the grate of the fireplace and stuck her head inside, and looked up. It was quite a long way to climb, but with her situation being what it was she was sure she'd find the strength. Carefully she stood inside the fireplace, leaned against the wall and put her feet up on the other one, pushing herself back to stay up. She moved a foot forward, stepping quickly and carefully, and tried to move herself upwards – but the brick was rough and her back wouldn't slide. She took a deep breath and tried to use her legs to push herself up, but to no avail. With a frustrated cry, she tried to carefully get back on her feet, but in the process of twisting and lowering she scrapped her back and pulled some muscle where her leg met her hip. Nearly blind with hopelessness and tears, she tried jumping and gripping the wall, her feet desperately trying to find some grip but failing.

She really was trapped.

Wiping tears off her face with a soot-covered hand, she headed back to her attic refuge. She closed and locked the door and again moved the chair in front of it. With a bit of inspiration, Ginny gathered together the odds and ends that were left of Harry's things to form almost a circle, then used the gold and white and red bedding to cover the objects and the floor in the middle of the circle. Now she had herself a true sanctuary, a tent of warmth and smells of home and reminders of love. She crawled inside with an old textbook she'd found in a dresser drawer, and began reading, hoping that somehow this simple book of spells would hold the secret of her escape.

* * *

It was maybe four hours later when she heard the door again, and she realized that perhaps that was the secret all along – Tom Riddle could come and go as he pleased. Maybe there was some way for her to make it through with him.

Ginny wanted to hide in her sanctuary of fabric and old furniture forever, but curiosity drove her to crawl out of it. She wanted to know what was so important as to make Tom Riddle leave the one place he was sure Harry couldn't find him.

Now barefoot, she walked down the cool wood stairs and moved quietly into the kitchen, where she could hear Tom moving and the rustle of paper. Here she saw him unloading plain brown paper bags, filling the cupboards with food. A quick glance at the other bags showed her male and female clothing, potion ingredients and grey and green bedding. She reached out and touched one of the sheets that looked like silk but felt almost like cashmere.

"That fool Xylander furnished only the downstairs," Tom muttered fiercely, glancing at Ginny briefly. "He completely forgot about bedding or clothes. I had to go out to get supplies myself."

It took Ginny a moment to remember that Xylander was Hades. It took her another moment to realize just how much food Tom had purchased, and how many bags of clothes.

"How long do you intend to hold me here?" she asked, frowning. This was an important question that had nearly slipped her mind, but then, her mind had been damaged by Tom. It was no surprise she was more worried about why she was here than whether or not it was indefinite.

Tom didn't pause as he filled a large wood bowl with various bright and sweet smelling fruits. "As long as it takes for you to accept the truth."

"What truth?"

"Exactly."

"_What truth_?"

Tom didn't respond, but only began putting away another bag of groceries. Frustrated, Ginny sighed and left the kitchen, settling down on an uncomfortably firm chair in the sitting room. She looked out the window and watched as raindrops fell from the grey sky into the small back garden. The garden itself was dying, uncared for while Harry was away. Flowers were wilting in the cold and bushes were beginning to brown. Only a lemon tree in the back seemed healthy and sturdy without being cared for. Ginny felt sure there was some sort of metaphor there, but she couldn't come up with one.

Her mind was filled with questions. What did Tom want with her? What truth was it that he wanted her to realize? How long was he going to keep her there, and what did he want with his third chance at life? And most importantly – how was she going to escape? Could she follow him out of the house one day, perhaps? Or force him to take her out somehow?

She contemplated these questions longer than she thought, for when she stopped to listen for Tom she realized he was no longer in the kitchen. He'd moved upstairs, and was moving about in a bedroom. She stood and went back up the stairs, and looked into the room. Curtains were up, a wardrobe stood opened filled with dresses and coats, and Tom stood by the bed, making it the Muggle way. That was curious – why would he do it by hand, when he so hated muggles?

But in a moment this thought didn't matter, because she saw the handle of the wand sticking out of his jacket. With more speed then she knew she contained, she took the wand from him and quickly moved back into the hallway so he couldn't wretch it from her grasp.

Tom laughed, turning to face her, the fingers of his right hand stark white against the deep emerald green of the sheets. "And what exactly do you plan on doing with me now, dear Ginevra?"

"Take me out of here," she demanded.

"No."

"Take me out or…or I'll break it."

"You'll only trap us both in here forever. Are you that fond of me, Elaine?"

"I'll kill you, then," she insisted in a burst of courage.

"Will you?"

"Yes."

"Prove it," he said, his voice daring her to try something, anything.

Ginny stood still and stared at him with wide eyes for a long moment, then with a quick breath, she exclaimed, "_Crucio_!"

Tom Riddle flinched, his muscles tensed, and then he laughed. "That's all, dear Ginevra?"

Filled with anger and hatred at his mocking, Ginny's breathing became shallow, her heart raced, her fury overcame her common sense and – "_Avada Kedavra_!"

But nothing happened. Again, Tom laughed. "You must have grown more attached to me than I thought."

Devastated at her failure and in tears, Ginny gave one last try, and cast a stinging hex on him, with a bright flash of white light. He winced and began swatting his skin as though he were trying to kill ants crawling on him, and she saw his arm begin to swell. Finally victorious, Ginny grinned.

"Take me out!" she insisted. But she backed away as an annoyed Tom seemed to appear in front of her, and he gripped her arm hard and shoved her back, pulling the wand out of her grip.

"Don't be pathetic," he sneered, and quickly undid her hex. "It's disgusting."

"Why are you doing this to me?" she asked as she sobbed. She was horrified at her weakness, crying in front of him…but she couldn't stop her shoulders from shaking or the tears from spilling out of her bloodshot eyes. "Why are you doing this to me, what did I do to you?"

"You know why," Tom breathed, turning away from her and going back to the bed.

"No, I don't," insisted Ginny as she leaned against the wall for support.

She heard him mutter again, but he tucked the wand back into his jacket and continued to make the bed. Surrendering, Ginny turned away, and returned to her attic sanctuary.

Artificial: I hope you enjoyed that chapter! I'm sorry Tom seems a bit…off? I'll get back into it next chapter, I swear!


	18. Pure Poison

A/N: So I did NaNoWriMo which took up November, and had a job for a while there in December, and I'm not so great at the working-and-writing thing. I'm concerned about when I get a real job. But uh, we'll see. I meant to post this earlier, but writer's block.

I always open chapters with apologies, don't I? Hopefully that won't happen too many more times. I've tried to put myself on a writing schedule, and we'll see how it works. To try to make up for the wait, I combined two chapters in one here. And I'm very sorry to the people I personally promised a quick new chapter to. I fail. We all know this.

Three things before we jump in. One, I stole from my fanfiction 'Fatal' here. I knew it was coming since the beginning, apparently I like stealing from myself! Two, I mess around with JK's world a bit, particularly when it comes to Horcruxs. I also ignore a bit of information released in Pottermore. But it's a fanfiction, and in order to make it work I had to do some tweaking. And three, the lovely theMFDgirl has translated my Tom/Ginny oneshot Cinderella and Persephone into French! She's amazing and as far as I can tell (not speaking any French) she did an incredible job, and I'm very thankful for her work. Anyone interested in reading the French translation should definitely look her up.

Otherwise, I own nothing. It's all J.K. Rowling's world, I'm just playing in it.

Enjoy, and please consider reviewing!

* * *

"_The truth." Dumbledore sighed. "It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution." – J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_

_The pure and simple truth is rarely pure and never simple. – Oscar Wilde_

* * *

It was almost unbearably warm. Sleepily, Ginny kicked the gold sheet off of her body and rolled over, burying her face into Harry's old winter cloak. She breathed in deep, and through the dusty smell she could almost smell the faint almond scent of the candles they'd been burning last time they'd been at the cabin together. She could remember it all so clearly. Snow was threatening in the dark grey sky, and they sat out in the garden, at a table covered in the almond-and-vanilla scented candles, discussing everything and nothing under the cold winter sun. It was the last time she'd felt really close to Harry, before Tom had really begun to torment her. It had been a lovely time.

Sighing contently, Ginny did her best to keep the memory in her mind, keeping her eyes closed and trying to remember the bite of the cold, the breath on the air, and the warm tones of Harry's voice. But it all began to slip away as she heard movement through the floor, reminding her that she was not alone here.

Slowly, Ginny sat up to kneel on the hard wood floor. The movement was coming from the hallway downstairs, headed for the attic stairs. Quickly, Ginny pushed herself into a corner of her tent sanctuary and covered herself from her shoulders down with Harry's old cloak, then wrapped the sheet around her back, as though these bits of cotton and velvet would serve as armor against her coming enemy.

She held her breath as she heard Tom's whispered spell and the click of the lock. The sound of his surprisingly light footsteps seemed to echo in her ears, as did the creak and click of the closing door. She heard his soft, cold chuckle and closed her eyes as he came closer and closer. She wished with every fiber of her being that he would simply disappear, and leave her with her happy memories of Harry. She was tired. She was so very _tired _of it all and she wanted more than anything to be away from Tom Riddle. Exhaustion filled her to her core, and she knew this was the reason she had changed so much. More than her fear of going mad, more than her constant fear of Tom, more than anything he had caused, it was her sheer exhaustion of life that had changed her from the lioness she once was to the mouse she was now. She just needed to rest. Why couldn't she just _rest_?

She peeked open one eye and saw Tom's shadow bend down, and pull open a wall of her tent. He set something on the ground beside him and then slid inside, sitting on his knees then sliding the thing he'd set down in after him. It was a silver tray carrying food, apples and strawberries, cubed cheese and thick slices of ham, muffins and croissants with small white dishes of lavender jam and honey and butter and cream. There was also a pot of tea and two little glass tea cups.

"It's nearly one in the afternoon, dear Ginevra. Aren't you ashamed to sleep so late?"

She refused to reply, but stared at him steadily with narrowed, accusatory eyes.

Her glare didn't seem to faze him, and he pushed the tray towards her. "You must be hungry by now. Eat." It was a command, but Ginny didn't move. The way his jaw was set told her that he wasn't amused by her refusal, but nevertheless he faked a charming smile.

He reached forward and pulled the tray back towards him slowly, inch by inch, until it sat between them. His long, white fingers circled a dark red apple, and he lifted it off the tray and he closed his eyes and breathed in the sweet scent, and then opened his eyes and leisurely took a bite, his dark eyes locked on Ginny's. Just as slowly, he chewed and swallowed, then turned the apple in his hand to reveal the white flesh of the fruit, revealed by the almost heart-shaped bite.

"It is good to eat again," he commented casually, leaning back on his free hand.

Again, Ginny didn't respond, but instead turned her gaze to the tray. She watched as steam slowly rose from the spout of the tea pot, and she felt so incredibly thirsty. But taking something from this tray would feel too much like giving in to him, like saying his abduction of her was okay. So she would wait until he left, then go down and find food for herself.

"Do you remember that lovely little secret you told me not too long ago?" he said, his voice now a little too casual, a mocking friendliness. "What was it…"

She refused to give him a reaction and kept her expression as stoic as she could. The smell of the strawberries and the honey was going to drive her mad…she could feel her stomach preparing to growl in hunger and tried her best to forbid it to do so.

"Come now, little Delilah, you must remember. Something about your first year…"

Ginny's decision to stare at the steam was ruined when Tom reached for the tea pot and poured two cups. After setting the pot down with hardly a sound, he delicately picked up the glass tea cup nearest himself and took a sip of the dark amber liquid.

After savoring the flavor of the tea, he spoke again. "Oh, that's right. You said that you loved me in your first year. I wonder…did you wish I loved you back?"

Ginny blinked and tried to fight back the tears. She had cried more than enough over this…not man, this _thing. _She refused to do it again.

"There, your eyes tell me I'm right. Just because you aren't looking at me doesn't mean I can't see them, Delilah," he commented, amused.

"I'm not Delilah," she said automatically, and she cursed her voice for speaking again her will.

"Of course you're not," said Tom, setting the cup back on the saucer with a soft 'clink', a tone of satisfaction in his voice. "I wonder if you know the significance of that name?"

She didn't. She didn't know most Muggle stories, which was where Tom seemed to get most of his nicknames for her from.

She bit her lip and curled her legs in closer, resting her chin on her knees.

Tom made a thoughtful sound, then after taking another bite of the apple and swallowing quickly, he spoke again. "You didn't answer my question directly, though, and that's not polite. Did you want me to love you back, Ginevra?"

Ginny didn't respond.

"I see. Well, there's nothing in this for you, is there? Why should you answer me?" Tom set the apple back on the tray. "Well then. Let's make this conversation one worth having. One honest answer is one letter to a family member. Interested in talking now?" When Ginny glanced up hopefully, thoughts of forming some sort of code to tell them where she was flying through her mind, Tom chuckled. "Of course, I'll be doing the writing. You'll tell me what to write. No telling them where we are, Delilah – that would be quite the betrayal."

Of course Tom would think of that. Or perhaps he was reading her mind? Either way, she knew there wouldn't be a code in the world she could slip by him, not with him writing the letter. But it was contact. A form of contact. How could she pass this up?

"Do we have a deal?"

Ginny pressed her lips together, and then nodded. "Yes."

"Yes we have a deal, or…?"

"Yes to both," she said, her voice coming out haggard. "When I was in my first year and I loved you – or who I thought you were – I wanted you to love me back. After a while, I was talking about Harry in an attempt to make you jealous. I would have given anything to make you love me. If you'd_ asked_ me to die to make you real, I might have done it just to make you love my memory."

"A memory loving a memory…" the corners of Tom's mouth turned up. "How very poetic of you."

"I wanted every part of you to want every part of me. Is that enough of an answer for you?"

Tom picked up the teacup again, and took another sip, seeming to carefully consider Ginny's answer. "Yes, I suppose. And a deal is a deal – one answer, one letter."

Ginny nodded excitedly, trying to decide whether to write her mother or her father – either way, the whole family was sure to read it, which meant she didn't really have to write another, and then she could finally –

"One letter to Mafalda Prewett."

Ginny's jaw dropped. "What?"

"You know Mafalda – your mother's second cousin's daughter."

Ginny's eyes were wide. "But…I…"

"I said a family member," Tom reminded her. "I did not say you got to choose which one."

"You tricked me."

"You're surprised?"

No, she wasn't, Ginny supposed. But she still felt the sting of disappointment. She knew next to nothing about Mafalda, except that she'd been in Slytherin. She wasn't even sure which year. There was no guarantee a letter to her would get back to her family.

She took a deep breath. "One answer, one letter. Do you want any more answers?" She would just keep answering questions until he ran out of extended family, and cross her fingers he still wanted answers when they finally got to her real family.

"Let's see…yes, I suppose I do have another question," said Tom, who then sipped his tea. "If you loved me now, would you want me to love you back?"

"I wouldn't love you now," said Ginny quickly, feeling nauseated at the very thought.

"Let us say that you did," Tom replied, "Say you love me now as you did then. But now that you know who I am and what I am capable of…would you want my love in return?"

"You are…you are _pure poison_. All you are is bitterness and fire and acid. Everything you are destroys me, everything you do burns me. Why would I _ever _love you?"

"You loved me once."

"I hate you now."

"No…" Tom said slowly, his voice almost distant. "No, I don't think so."

Now Ginny couldn't stop the tears from making salty trails along her hollow cheeks, but they were tears of anger and she could excuse them. "You have put me through _hell. _When I was a child you used me and possessed me and drained me of life. You've gotten my friends and family killed, you tried to wipe out a whole race of people that I love, and kill all those who feel the same way I do. And even after you _died _you again possessed me and used me and drove my remaining friends and family away from me just to torture me further, drove me _mad,_ nearly used my body to kill the man I love and tricked me into bringing the darkest being all time back to life – and that being is you! Then you abduct me and hold me hostage in Harry's home!" her voice had slowly raised in volume, and now she was shouting at him. "How in the _whole of the world _could you possibly think that I don't hate you?!"

Slowly, gently, Tom set the tea cup back on the tray, then leaned forward, staring deep into Ginny eyes. She felt like he was examining her soul.

"Is it my turn to tell my side of our story then, Ginevra?"

She blinked several times, and then sighed and leaned back, deflated. Nothing she said seemed to matter. "Fine. I don't care. Say what you want to say."

Tom's eyes didn't leave hers for some time. She stared back for a moment, but they were too dark and intense. His strangely heated gaze made her stomach twist, and she looked back down at the tray of food, and still she felt his gaze.

"Shall we begin at the very start, then?" he said slowly, almost seeming to savor each syllable.

"I don't care where you start. Just hurry up so we can be done with this," she snapped impatiently, pulling the cloak off of her body and tossing it aside in irritation.

She heard a brief, soft chuckle come from him, and looked up. His eyes were closed now, and he was taking in a slow, deep breath.

"There is much you already know, much you have been told but do not believe, much I will not tell you," he said, his eyes still closed. With his eyes closed, Ginny felt safe to watch his face for any signs of emotion, though she doubted he was capable of emotion. The only movements in his face were caused by speaking. "You'll recall that when you wrote in the diary, when I poured my soul into you and used you to open the Chamber of Secrets, that I felt an attachment to you. I felt possessive of you, and eventually I realized that if I'd still had a whole soul, I could have loved you."

His eyes opened to see her response, and she simply nodded.

He reached forward and picked up the apple again, and took a bite. When he finished with the bite, he continued to speak. "I have waited for you…I have given you all the information you needed…and you stubbornly refuse to complete the puzzle. I will put it together for you, and it is up to you to decide whether you accept it, or not."

"Could you just get to it, please?"

Tom Riddle smirked, the juices from the apple still on his lips. She looked away when he licked his lips clean. "Very well. I won't go into complete detail, so all you need to understand is that I now have every piece of my soul back. I have my _whole_ soul."

"You've made that clear, I fail to see-"

Tom laughed, and she was surprised at the genuine amusement in his voice. "Already, you are refusing to put two and two together."

Ginny frowned as she felt her temper begin to flare. "Well, you can't love me, you were always evil, so-"

"I never said I loved you," said Tom. "But I did say that I once could have, had I a whole soul then. _Now _I have a whole soul."

"What are you trying to say, then?"

He took his time, turning the apple over in his hand. "Are you sure you don't want one, Ginevra? They're rather sweet, and may help you open your eyes to truth."

Ginny blinked, and then looked down at the apples suspiciously. "Did you put a truth serum in them?"

"No," said Tom. "I ought to have expected you to not understand."

Ginny sighed, wanted to tell him to just get on with it again but knowing it was useless. He would talk in circles all day if he wanted to, and there wasn't much she could do about it. She lowered her knees and stretched her legs out in front of her, crossing her arms across her chest.

Tom finally set the apple down again. "It is true, I am incapable of love. I have always preferred causing pain in others to caring for them, even as a child. However, now that my soul is united, the potential for _something _is there. Not real love, of course, but…something."

"You're not making sense," Ginny said.

He looked her in the eye, and smirked again. "That is often your complaint of me." He folded his hands together in front of himself, and continued. "Very well, I will put it simply. I cannot love, but I can once again feel. When my soul was united, I felt. I felt first a longing for you, then something akin to envy when you did not mourn my death. And then, I had two goals. The first was to return to life. The second was to posses you."

Ginny frowned, and felt lines form between her brows. "But you already possessed me."

"In the physical sense, yes, but I wanted to _own_ you. So I began slowly to test my powers, to practice building them, and to isolate you."

Slowly, Ginny reached to the tray and picked up a strawberry. She took a bite, and the red began to stain her lips. "But…_why_?"

"I _wanted_ to love you," Tom Riddle confessed, causing Ginny to choke on her strawberry. "I wanted to love you so I could have the greatest witch of modern times as my own. But being incapable of that, the next best thing was for you to have no one in the world but me."

Ginny didn't respond, and watched Tom sip his now cold tea before continuing. "That is why I drove you mad, and isolated you from your friends and family. If you didn't have them to depend on, eventually you would have no choice but to turn to me, regardless of your hatred of me. I wanted you to need me and open up to me. I could always read your thoughts and memories, but for them to be offered would have been…a different experience entirely."

"That's why you told me to tell you a secret," she whispered, suddenly realizing this. "That's why you wanted me to tell you that in my first year I loved you. I knew that you could see it, but…but for some reason you felt that my saying it meant something."

"Didn't it mean something?" asked Tom slowly. "You were much easier to control and posses after you offered your secret to me. And had I the time I wanted…perhaps I could have gained more."

"So…" Ginny began, feeling confused. "Was it about gaining power? Or about trying to own me?"

"Yes," was Tom's reply.

"But I don't understand," sighed Ginny, frustrated, feeling as though she never understood anything anymore. "How does my saying something to you that you already knew make you own me more?"

"Which is better – when you know something has been bothering…_Harry,_" he practically spat the name, "And you discover the cause on your own, or when he comes to you and tells you his problems?"

"But that's different. That's Harry and I."

"And I wanted to replace him."

Ginny's head was swimming. She couldn't comprehend the things he was saying, or what they meant then and now, or any of his motives. Tom claimed to be telling his side of things, but now she felt that everything was more unclear than ever before.

"You do not believe me."

"I don't understand you."

"No – you do not _want_ to understand, there is a difference."

"I _don't understand_," she insisted, though now she decided to focus on something other than his desire to replace Harry, "How does that give you more power over me?"

"In telling me, you gave me more of your soul," Tom explained. "The more of you I possessed, the stronger I became. At first you only feared you were mad – when you began fearing _me, _you gave me another piece. Each time you spoke directly to me, I gained another piece. That secret was the last thing I needed to be powerful enough to perform the magic to give myself my own body."

Slowly, Ginny reached for another strawberry. "You were_ literally _owning me," she breathed. "I should have known better. In my first year, you grew strong from my secrets. I should have known that telling you another would give you power."

"And the more I've owned of you, Ginevra, the more I've wanted," Tom said, his voice low. "I have now lost all the pieces of your soul, I was unable to keep them while in my own body. But I will not be satisfied until I own all of you."

"You'll never do that," Ginny spat. "I'll never let you."

Tom shrugged slowly, gracefully, as he pushed the tray closer to her. "I already own your body. It is only a matter of time before I own your mind, your soul and your heart."

"Harry has my heart!" Ginny exclaimed, throwing the strawberry back onto the tray. It landed in his empty tea cup. "And no matter what you do, that won't change!"

"What if Harry was…out of the way?"

Ginny felt her face go pale, and her heart drop to her stomach. She instantly regretted throwing Harry in Tom's face. Of course he would take it as a challenge, of course he would use any excuse to go after Harry. And if Harry died because of her, she would – she would – she'd want to be dead, too.

"Don't you dare," she breathed, unable to come up with a better phrase to stop Tom. "Don't you dare."

"Don't I dare _what_, Ginevra? I never said I would harm him. Only wondered what you would do if he were gone."

"I'd never love you!" Ginny screamed, rising to kneel. "Don't you get that? No matter what you do, I'll never love you. How could anyone ever love a monster like you?!"

She hadn't expected Tom to react, but he did. It was hardly noticeable, but he blinked his eyes quickly, twice, and his next breath came in a little sharper. This reaction only managed to encourage her to continue. "And as for that stupid suggestion that you'd ever even _want _to love me, well, I see right through your lies. You've always been incapable of love, you've always despised love and called it a weakness. There's no reason you'd ever want to love, even if you could comprehend what real love is!"

Her throat ached, but suddenly she felt lighter than she had in months. She leaned back, sitting down again and wiping tears she didn't remember shedding from her face. Her outburst should have embarrassed her, but instead, she felt liberated. He could do whatever he wanted to her – she wouldn't be pushed around any longer.

Tom sat silent for a moment, and Ginny thought he could almost resemble a statue with his pale skin and complete stillness. She couldn't even see him breathe, and she wasn't sure if she should feel smug to have silenced him, or afraid of his reaction to her outburst. When he swallowed hard and his steely gaze met her eyes, she felt the latter – the deep, instinctual fear of a predator.

"Very well. Do you want to know the truth?" his voice didn't leave any room for comment. "Dumbledore was right," this he said as though the taste of the words were bitter.

He didn't continue for some time, and Ginny finally felt the need to prompt him. "What-what was Dumbledore right about…?"

"About love," said Tom. He knelt now, as well, and the top of his head nearly brushed the roof of the tent. "I saw it as a weakness, and he saw it as strength. I was far more powerful than Dumbledore could ever dream of being…yet in the end, it was love that defeated Lord Voldemort. I will not make it my weakness again. If I can somehow love, and if I can own love, than I will be the strongest creature on the face of this earth, and no one will be capable of defeating me – not even your precious Harry Potter."

Ginny felt ill, and as she looked down to the floor, she could see that her hands were pale and shaking. "So…so you do mean to continue murdering muggles."

She heard Tom scoff, and looked up at him. "I have no intention of killing muggles or muggle-lovers this time, Ginevra." She couldn't help but not that unlike Hades, he didn't seem to mean to say 'mudbloods'.

"Why not?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Her brow was furrowed with confusion, unsure of what else he could intend to do with his own body and seemingly infinite power.

"I no longer despise them," Tom explained, almost casually but with a note of distaste in his voice. "I have no reason to, for I finally see the truth. They are but pawns to be used…as are all of Wizarding kind. Anyone weaker than I is meant to be used by me, which puts them all on equal ground. I hate muggle-lovers no more than I hate the weak-minded."

Ginny was more confused than before. "But…but Lord Voldemort hated-"

"Lord Voldemort is dead, Ginevra," he said softly, almost reassuringly.

"I _know_ that," Ginny insisted, shaking her head, causing strands of red to fall across her face that seemed to fascinate Tom for a moment. "If I hadn't seen him die myself, I would know by the many times you've said that. But you're _here_! So it doesn't make any sense!"

"I told you," Tom sighed slowly, and she caught a hint of frustration in his voice. "I am not Lord Voldemort. I never was."

"But then how-"

"I will explain again, and you will listen closely for I will not say it another time," Tom said, slowly leaning forward, his dark eyes peering into hers. "I am the fragment of soul Lord Voldemort's memory placed inside you, to use you to open the Chamber of Secrets. I have been there since your first year at Hogwarts. When the other hiding places for his soul were destroyed and then Voldemort was killed, they all united into the one living piece left – me. I have all the memories of those pieces. I have the memories of Voldemort, but also memories of the ring, the diadem, the locket, the cup, the snake, and yes, even the life of Harry Potter from the moment he became a Horcrux. However, having these memories does not make me them – I am no more Harry Potter than I am the diadem - and I am not Lord Voldemort."

Ginny's head was swimming with this information. He'd told her this earlier, she remembered that now, but she had been trying to find a way to escape at the time and hadn't connected all the pieces. But now…he had been inside her this whole time? He knew her whole life since her first year – and all of Harry's?

Ginny closed her eyes and shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts, to make something logical form. "But- but if you're part of the soul in the diary, you _would_ be Lord Voldemort."

"From the time Tom Riddle was sixteen years old, the name Lord Voldemort was one he used with his classmates. Yes, he was making plans…but at that point, Lord Voldemort was merely a nickname, nothing more. Therefore, I am Tom Riddle, but I am not Lord Voldemort, not as you knew him," he paused for a moment, and then a slight smirk appeared on his face. "I am not innocent by any means, however. Do not let my going by my father's name fool you. At the point I was separated from the rest of the soul, I had already murdered my father, grandfather and grandmother, and framed my uncle for doing it. I have my vengeance on my father – and I feel no great need to add any more deaths to my conscience, if I indeed have one."

"I doubt you do," breathed Ginny, now on her knees as well and leaning towards Tom. "You don't seem to regret the deaths you've already caused, or the deaths the other parts of your soul caused. You're bragging about them."

"Just because the magic hasn't turned me into some inhuman creature, it doesn't make me entirely human, Ginevra," replied Tom, "I have always been fine with hurting others. I merely don't see the profit in pointless slaughter any longer."

Slowly, Ginny drew in a breath, preparing herself for what she knew she had to ask. "If you don't plan on killing muggles anymore, then…what do you plan to do?"

Tom leisurely leaned back, sitting again, his legs sprawled out in front of himself, his shoe nearly touching her knee. "I haven't decided yet," he replied in almost a friendly tone of voice, but knowing him as well as she unfortunately did, she heard the mocking in it. "Though I must admit, I am tempted to take over the world, merely to make you my Queen."

Ginny flinched at the comment, but refused to respond to it. "If you haven't decided yet, then _what am I doing here_?"

Tom Riddle chuckled darkly, and began moving out of the tent. "I have told you why you're here. Now, you may wish to finish your breakfast – the tea has gone cold," he said as he left her sanctuary. As she listened to his retreating footsteps, Ginny tried not to think of how empty it felt now.

"Oh," Tom said suddenly, from the doorway. "Your room is downstairs, Ginevra, and I assure you it is much more comfortable than an attic floor. Surely you can find some better way to defy me than denying yourself a bed?" And with that, he was gone.

* * *

**ArtificialImagination:** I hope you liked it! I know it came out sort of confusing, but it's meant to be that way. Ginny is confused, and so we should be, too.


	19. Afrodisiac

A/N: This was meant to come out ages ago, but hey – I'm getting better with the updating, and that's what counts. Right?

Anyway, I spent all day working on this because there's a lot of research involved and I really, really wanted it up for Valentine's Day. Though it's not exactly romantic, I do consider it a Valentine's Day chapter. (Or a Single's Awareness Day chapter, if you're like me.)

So, a few things first. I tried to guess what Ginny would call the three meals of the day. After research, I still couldn't figure it out. So I settled on Breakfast, Dinner and Supper. If anyone in the UK knows what she'd have called them and I'm wrong, I'm very sorry! I'm an American girl who is easily confused and I just couldn't understand who calls what where.

Next, to **QueenGinevraWeasley**: I couldn't fit the entire story in here, but there is a certain nickname and comment Tom makes that I hope you'll be pleased with. I love your insights, they were very interesting and I agree about the Mordred and Guinevere thing. Also, I didn't have any particular symbolism in mind for the lemon tree – I wanted to see what readers would come up with themselves. And you had a fantastic interpretation. =) I have a feeling you're disappointed with Tom announcing that he no longer wants to destroy Muggles and therefore won't be following in Voldemort's footsteps, but he does have plans and I hope you'll be okay with where they end up. (I'm not messaging because I like to do things old school, yo.)

Speaking of plans, I really need to plot out the rest of this fanfiction. The next chapter is the only one I have outlined. Oops.

Okay well, I don't own Harry Potter (JK does), I go a bit overboard with descriptions here but whatever, the beginning of this chapter is crap but it does get better aaaaand I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**Bonus Challenge:** See if you can count all the aphrodisiacs!

* * *

The sheer opulence of her bedroom was breathtaking.

Apparently, Tom had changed his mind about the emerald sheets, and had enchanted the room to look completely different. The room had a textured painted look to it, dark white covered with a deep beige color like the room belonged in an older house. The floor remained a pale grey wood, but now across the majority of it was a lush deep red Persian carpet, compete with a design of dark blue, gold and sage colors. The original, simple bed frame was replaced by a dark wood one, with a tall headboard and footboard but with low, curved sides. It was covered with some large, soft golden fabric lined with silk and stitched Moroccan designs in red and fawn. It was piled with more pillows than she could count in amethyst, emerald, ruby and sapphire, all with gold thread designs. Over the top of the bed was deep red gossamer fabric, and along the walls were intricate mirrors and bright red paintings. The two wardrobes were painted white to match the walls or bright red to match the carpet. There was a small wooden chair painted bright yellow, low footstools, a couch of highly decorated fabric and intricate wood designs, end tables with Moroccan tiles on the surface with books or colored votives or vases of exotic flowers sitting atop them. The room was lit by Arabic lamps with brightly colored glass hanging from the ceiling by golden chains, lit by some sort of magic candles that burned brightly without needing to be lit. Incense filled the air, smelling of sandalwood and cinnamon.

Ginny had never been surrounded by such fine things in all her life. It felt strange to be in such a familiar house surrounded by such an unfamiliar atmosphere. She hoped that somehow this place would return to it's old, homey and very Harry style and feel, but the more things changed the less probable that seemed.

A spark of hope suddenly – but wouldn't Harry someday come back here? Even if it was months from now, surely he was going to come here again. And then he would find her. Unless Tom somehow found a way to keep Harry away forever –

She didn't really want to think about that.

Instead, Ginny took a seat on the couch and tried to understand what she'd just learned.

Tom wasn't really Tom Riddle, not in the traditional sense. This was perhaps the most strange revelation, yet it made sense. It would explain why he always claimed that he was not Lord Voldemort, yet he was quite clearly Tom Riddle.

If she understood correctly, what had happened was Lord Voldemort had made the diary his first horcrux, putting a piece of his soul inside it. Then she'd begun writing in the diary, and while she gave the diary secrets, parts of her own soul, in order to control her it somehow tore again – with the murder of the chickens? – and part of that soul was placed in her. Then when Voldemort was killed, all the pieces that had been destroyed couldn't move on to the next life because part of the soul still remained in a living body – hers.

The part that was really confusing was that though he seemed to have all the pieces of his soul back, he still claimed to not be Voldemort. He was the bit of soul that had lived inside her since her First year, though he had all the memories of the other pieces of soul. Could it be that his soul wasn't pieced back together yet? She remembered Harry mentioning something about people who made horcruxes having to feel remorse in order to put their soul together again. Maybe that was why he didn't feel like he was Voldemort – all the pieces of soul were gathered, but not fused together.

There were also his other comments to consider, and these were even less clear. He wanted love so he could have the same strength Harry had. He didn't plan on killing muggles, because he disliked them only as much as he disliked anyone else. He didn't actually have any further plans.

Her head was beginning to hurt from the smoke of the incense, and her stomach was beginning to hurt due to her refusal to eat anything he gave her. The last 'decent' meal she'd had was at St. Mungo's. Merlin, that felt like it was months ago. It was time for her to eat…but she would get the food herself.

Slowly, Ginny opened the door to her bedroom and peeked out. She couldn't see Tom in the hall, nor could she hear him moving about in any rooms. That could mean he was downstairs, but if she were lucky he may have gone out again.

But then, Ginny remembered that luck had never been on her side. She heard noises coming from the kitchen, but she refused to turn back. She was hungry, and she wasn't going to let him chase her away any longer. She walked into the kitchen, tall and confident.

Tom was peeking into the oven when Ginny arrived, hair gone wild from the heat. She was surprised to see him dressed in muggle clothing, in pale grey trousers, a button-down shirt in a blue so bright she was shocked to see him wearing it and a pale grey V-necked cotton sweater pulled over the shirt. He wore only grey socks on his feet, but otherwise everything was very put together, well tailored and lovely.

She was further surprised when she realized that everything he was doing was the Muggle way. Oh, the dishes were doing themselves, of course, and spoons stirred bowls on their own, but otherwise he seemed to be hand-making everything.

When he realized she was in the kitchen, Tom turned to her, standing straight with his hands folded politely behind his back. "Good afternoon, Ginevra," he greeted her pleasantly, with a charming smile that only disturbed Ginny. Why was he being so…so casual and friendly?

"You're wearing muggle clothes," was the only response she could think of.

"Ah, yes," said Tom, looking down at his clothing. "While I do detest muggles, their clothing is much easier to move about in than heavy robes. And they didn't sell robes at the shop I was forced to purchase clothing at, so this is what I ended up with."

Ginny stared, unsure of what to say or do. His attitude was just so casual, like he was a friend of hers and she was merely staying at his place for the day, rather than he being a soulless, cruel creature that kidnapped her and held her hostage here.

Tom observed Ginny's face, and then smirked. "Do you like it? Rather handsome, aren't I?"

Ginny blinked. "Stop it."

"I'm sorry – stop what, exactly?" Tom asked, turning from her now to a cutting board, where he began to pour some sort of vinaigrette over arugula.

"This," she said, moving forward, motioning to the kitchen around her though she wasn't sure why. "This fake friendliness, this…easiness. You're behaving like we're friends."

"Are we not?" Tom asked, feigning hurt surprise though she could hear a cold amusement behind his words. "I'm the only person you've been able to talk to for a long time, Ginny. Doesn't that count for something?"

She scowled, folding her arms across her chest. "You were the only person I could talk to because you _made it that way._"

"Perhaps," Tom commented quickly, turning now to a counter-top grill where asparagus was cooking, apparently drizzled with olive oil and black pepper. As he checked the greens, Tom added, "But you can't say you didn't find me comforting, at times, Guinevere."

Ginny opened her mouth to protest, but she realized he was right. The night after they'd found the corpse of the hiker, he had recited the Lady of Shalott for her again, but that time she had found it comforting, had thought his voice soothing, and had let him coax her to sleep. There were other times, too, small things like when he put out the flames in her room without her knowledge. And she had in all honesty found him to be the one person she could depend on – depend on to always be there, though mocking and cruel. Everyone else had seemed to abandon her, but he was always there.

_Because he had no choice! _She reminded herself quickly. This was a dangerous line of thought.

She found something else to object to, instead. "Stop calling me by these weird names," she insisted, walking to a kitchen counter and leaning her hip against it. "My name is Ginevra, and that is my only name. You keep calling me the names of fictional women, or historical or legendary women, and I'm not them. I seem to be every woman in the world to you except for the one that I actually am."

"I find Guinevere to be quite fitting," was Tom's only response. Ginny sighed in frustration, though really she should have known better than to expect him to actually do what she asked.

Tom went to a cutting board and began slicing up pears. "You may want to wash up and dress for dinner," he said, his eyes not leaving the pale green fruit. "It will be ready soon, and as ravishing as I find you I would prefer you didn't eat in the clothes you wore yesterday."

Ravishing? Something very strange was happening.

Still, though Ginny didn't like the idea of doing anything Tom asked, she did feel a little grungy. She left the kitchen and went upstairs to her room, grabbed clothes without paying much attention to what it was, located the bathroom and locked herself in. Fifteen minutes later, she emerged from a hot shower, dressed with hair and teeth brushed and feeling at least minimally better. She went back to her room to put her dirty clothes – well, somewhere, at least. While in there, she caught a glimpse of her reflection. She had to admit…she looked better than she had in ages. Her cheeks were rosier – though perhaps due to the hot water – and her eyes held more independence and fire than they had since before Fred died. She had her still wet hair pulled over one shoulder, and the revealed skin on the other side had actual color, rather than the pale yellowed skin she'd had for a while now. Part of her thought that maybe Tom had put some magic in her soap, but that wasn't it.

Being trapped here was awful, and she wanted to leave as soon as she could. But something about being physically around Tom had caused a spark in her. Not the sort of spark he seemed to hope to create, but a determination to not allow herself to be used anymore, to not put up with his abuse of her, to fight back. She was finished being a whimpering victim; now, she wouldn't let him do whatever he wanted with her without making him regret it somehow.

Ginny smirked in the mirror. These were confident words. She hoped she could turn them into action.

She took another moment to admire her new reflection, and appreciate the dress. It wasn't something she'd choose normally (even when she wore muggle clothing), but it fit her well. The top was white and fitted with strap sleeves. At her waist was a thick tan leather belt, and the skirt was a lovely sea green, ruffled and flowy and going down to her knees. She looked like a young woman in it, the confident young woman she would have been had Tom's soul not began to haunt her on top of the war and deaths that haunted her.

With a deep breath to steel herself against whatever she faced downstairs, Ginny left the room and headed back down to the kitchen. Finding it empty, she walked through the kitchen and turned into the dining-room, where a delicious-smelling meal was set.

The old round table had been replaced by a longer, rectangular one, covered by a dark green tablecloth. The plates were gold-tinted white with a thick ring of the same green around the edges, the silverware was faintly gold, the fabric napkins gold, the glasses and mugs glass. The centerpiece of the table was a vase of white snapdragons and white gerber daisies. The light scent of them mingled with the smell of rosemary, lemon, pear and red wine. Just looking at the food made Ginny's stomach growl. There were thick cuts of lamb where the smell of red wine and mint drifted from, roasted red potatoes with rosemary sprigs, beautiful grilled asparagus and a salad of arugula, pears and dates with parmesan and some sort of lemony vinaigrette.

Tom stood on the far end of the table, and her place had been set at his right-hand side. Ginny scowled, not liking this arrangement, but held her head high and walked to her place. He pulled her chair out for her, and wordlessly she took her seat. Tom sat beside her and with a wave of his wand filled their plates, mugs and water goblets. Ice water with lime wedges and a mug of strong coffee were the beverages for this meal, and all Ginny could think was that this was awfully extravagant for dinner, a meal usually made of sandwiches and crisps for her.

They began eating without a word to each other, and at first Ginny was appreciative. But the quiet was quickly becoming oppressive, and though she hated talking to Tom, it was started to seem preferable to not speaking at all. When it was too quiet, she thought too much about where Harry was and if he was okay, if her family was surviving, how her friends were, and worst of all she still heard _the Lady of Shalott_ repeated again and again in her mind, like when she used to stare at words too long and still see ghosts of them when she looked away.

"How do you know so much about muggle literature?" she asked quietly between bites of asparagus.

Tom looked vaguely surprised at her attempt at conversation, and then amused. He set down his fork. "You know I was raised in a muggle orphanage. There wasn't much there for me to do, except for playing with the other orphan's minds, of course. So I spent a good time stealing books and reading them."

He didn't say anything more on the subject, but watched her as though he expected her to say something else. She couldn't think of any follow-up questions, so she continued to eat, picking at a date. She felt a little disappointed that the conversation had gone nowhere, because now it was quiet again. And, she admitted, she'd sort of hoped to learn more about Tom. Not for such simple reasons as wanting to get to know him, but she wanted to find something she could use against him. He must have some sort of weakness, she was sure of it.

"When you wrote in the diary," Tom finally spoke, and Ginny now wished he'd stayed silent, "You talked about how you used to read about the famous Harry Potter in books and dream about him. You'd fantasize about meeting him and making his jaw drop with your beauty and wit, and befriending him and eventually having him fall for you, and getting married. Is that not so?"

Ginny blinked back tears of anger and embarrassment, but decided not to say anything. Maybe he had a point beyond mocking her.

Tom picked up the water glass and took a sip, speaking again as he carefully set it down. "When I was young I had the same sort of thoughts, but of the great literary women, rather than simple celebrities. I dreamed of meeting Lady Elaine and taking Lancelot's place in her heart, of befriending Guinevere and being her closest confidant, of seducing Delilah rather than being seduced by her, of being Hades and forcing Persephone to become my bride."

Ginny now set down her fork, and folded her hands in her lap. "Is that why you call me those names?"

"Perhaps," breathed Tom. "Or perhaps it's merely because they irritate you so."

Ginny sighed and rolled her eyes, picking her fork up again. "You keep suggesting that you want love, yet you're incapable of it. And you used to despise it."

"As I told you," said Tom, speaking firmer now, "Hating love was my weakness, and Dumbledore's strength. In the end, Voldemort was defeated by love. I do not intend to make his mistakes. Love is the path to ultimate power, and though I cannot confess to understand why, I will gain it and use it to my advantage."

Ginny watched his as he spoke, and his dark eyes were locked on hers. Somehow, the blue in his shirt brought out gold flecks in his eyes. Her gaze narrowed as he spoke of possessing love as though it were an object he could steal, but he only stared at her in seeming fascination. When his eyes left hers, it was slowly, almost hesitantly. Ginny was left feeling strange, almost breathless with her heart pounding.

"Love doesn't work that way," she said, though she knew there was no use. He would never listen to her.

"Of course it does," he responded. "Potter used it to his advantage. I will use it to mine."

"And how do you intend to get love in the first place?"

He glanced up at her again, but before she could read the emotions in his eyes he looked back to his plate. Ginny followed suit, spearing a bit of arugula with her fork.

They ate in silence, and it wasn't until Ginevra felt nearly full that Tom spoke again.

"So, dearest….how do you feel?" The word 'dearest' felt too affectionate, not only coming from Tom but the tone of it. It was honeyed, sweet yet poisoned, like the word itself was a dangerous temptation.

Ginny was so fixated on the strangeness of the word on his tongue and the sickly sweet tone in which he'd spoken it that she almost forgot to respond. "…What?"

"How do you feel today?"

Ginny's brow furrowed in confusion. "I feel like I've been kidnapped and my kidnapper is holding me hostage in the same building where he killed my boyfriend's parents," she said flatly.

"Lord Voldemort killed Potter's parents. I am not-"

"Close enough. You can't deny you would have killed them, too, given the chance."

"Before they conceived, certainly…" Tom looked upwards thoughtfully, as if trying to recall something. "After? His father, perhaps. Lily Potter looked too much like you. And if I remember correctly, Lord Voldemort wanted to avoid her death. If she hadn't gotten between him and Harry, she would have lived."

Ginny remembered Harry telling her the story of how Snape had loved his mother, and begged Voldemort to spare her life. She was, however, surprised to hear that he would have done it.

She opened her mouth to speak again, but Tom beat her to it. "Tell me about your dreams, your goals."

Ginny set down her fork. "Why? Why do you care?"

"I do not need to give you a reason, my dear." Again, the words were tinted with honey and venom.

"No," Ginny said, shaking her head. "No, you do. Why are you asking me that? Why are you speaking to me like this at all?"

"Would you rather I spoke cruelly?"

Ginny wanted to say yes, but she wasn't that strong yet. She knew what it was like to have Tom Riddle speak cruelly to her, and though she was piecing herself back together, returning to that situation would break her fragile self again. She couldn't really take Tom on after all, at least not until she was completely strong, completely herself again.

"I would rather you made sense."

"I thought I spoke very clearly, forgive me," he said, setting down an empty coffee mug. "I meant that I want to hear more about what you wish to accomplish in life."

Ginny was nearly speechless with fury. She stood, shaking, and threw her napkin on the table. "I _wish _to get away from _you,_ to be with Harry, to have my family back and to stop feeling insane, and broken, and used! That's what I want, Tom!" With those words, she turned and stormed back up to her room.

* * *

The hours ticked by slowly, and Ginny spent most of them escaping into books. First she'd found an old copy of _Tales of Beedle the Bard_, and she relived her childhood through each story, remembering when her mother tucked her into bed and told her these tales in her own beautiful words. Her heart ached by the end of the book, and she curled up on the soft couch and watched the incense smoke dance on the air, this time smelling of almonds and jasmine.

She lay there for maybe an hour or so when she heard a firm knock on the door. Refusing to answer, Ginny left the couch and went to the bed, and was pleasantly surprised to feel the softness of the mattress and the luxurious feel of the blankets. The knock came again, and Ginny leaned back and looked at the art on the walls. She found one red painting in particular very evocative, a background of red and gold furnishings and a woman in the foreground arranging her long red hair, a table with a hairbrush before her, her white robe exposing her shoulder and nearly slipping off her breasts. The woman had such a far-off, almost haunted look in her eyes, and Ginny couldn't help but identify with her.

Tom seemed to have given up, and Ginny slipped off her bed and approached the door, listening against it to make sure. She noticed that the line of light below the door was interrupted by something, and opened the door to look. There on a large silver tray was her supper: A tall glass of what smelled like elderflower cordial, a glass and bottle of Pinot Blanc, pasta in a pesto sauce that smelled of sweet basil, toasted garlic bread and – and were those oysters? Upon closer inspection, she realized that they were. She'd never had oysters before. She picked up the tray, went inside her room and found a place to eat in quiet. When she was finished, she set her tray outside her door.

Unsure of what else to do, Ginny picked up another book – this time a book by Lockhart, of all people – and curled up in bed to read. She breathed in deeply, loving the smell of ginger and roses that now filled her room. She was beginning to feel more relaxed, and though she knew she would never feel safe or comfortable here, she allowed herself to feel calm and begrudgingly content to sit and read.

Hours later, her book nearly finished, Ginny decided to get ready for bed. The light outside her window had disappeared, and the smell of lavender and vanilla was making her pleasantly sleepy. She went back to the bathroom and drew herself a hot bath, using scented oils to make her skin smell of almonds, and closed her eyes, willing the tension to leave her body. Maybe if she could feel completely serene, she could start regaining her old strength better.

She let her bath run long, and didn't get out until her fingertips were wrinkly. When she made it back to her room, she was pleased that the floral and spicy ginger and rose scent had returned. She found lotions in the top drawer of one of the tables and put on an amber-scented one, then changed into a long, soft, flowing olive-colored nightgown with thin straps and a neckline that was a little low for her comfort. She went to her bed and crawled under the covers, and the lights began to dim.

Then she heard a knock at the door again.

Ginny sighed, frustrated. "I'm going to sleep."

"Without tea?"

"Yes."

"I don't think so," she heard Tom mutter, and then heard him whisper a spell and open the previously locked door. The lights went up again, though still dimmer than their full brightness. Tom entered with another tray, this time a glass tray tinted with pale green. He walked to the bed despite Ginny's protests, and set the tray down beside her, then took a seat on the mattress at her feet. He still wore the grey trousers, but now wore a deep green long-sleeved jersey shirt (though the sleeves were pulled up to expose his forearms), that fit comfortably loose as though it was well broken in.

Ginny pulled the red covers up to her neck and held them in place with a hand as she looked at the tray. There was cream tea in fine porcelain cups with little pink buds on them, champagne chilled in a bucket with two champagne flutes of red glass, a plate of chocolate covered strawberries, a plate of dark chocolate squares and a plate of six roasted figs drizzled with honey, sprinkled with almond pieces with a tablespoon of mascarpone on top of each. It all looked and smelled incredible, and Ginny couldn't resist the temptation. She reached out for a fig, picked it up and took a bite. Her eyes closed in ecstasy, and she nearly moaned at the flavor of the succulent delicacy.

When she opened her eyes, Tom was offering her a glass of the champagne. She hadn't had any of the wine, but now alcohol didn't seem like such a bad idea. She accepted the red glass, took a sip, and then decided it was bad idea, after all. Coughing and wrinkling her nose in disgust, she handed the glass back, and she heard Tom laugh.

"Not to your taste?"

"No," she choked out.

He sipped the champagne. "It's a cheap sort of drink, anyway. It's better that you dislike it. Though I must admit a desire to know what you're like drunk…"

Ginny ignored the comment and finished eating her fig, then feeling too warm under the heavy blankets and Tom's unwavering stare, she pushed the covers back and pulled her legs out, no longer caring about the cut of her nightgown. It wasn't as though he hadn't had full opportunity to see her nude while he was in her head.

She watched Tom slowly reach for and then even more slowly bite into a chocolate-covered strawberry. Like the apple from that morning, it left juice on his lips, and she again felt the need to look away as he licked the juices away.

When he finished with the strawberry, he reached for his teacup, and she felt the tips of his fingers brush past her legs as he leaned forward. The touch was so light she wasn't sure if he noticed, and if he had he didn't react. Ginny felt sickened by this situation suddenly, at the nearness of him and the familiar tone he took with her, but she still felt so very tired of being alienated from everyone, of being angry and hurt and scared all the time, and just this once she wanted to feel calm and in control without having to throw a fit. So rather than make some comment about his attitude and the real darkness of their situation that would be ignored, she took a strawberry for herself and indulged in it.

"Do you like your room?" Tom wanted to know as he set down his tea and instead took up his champagne glass. "I couldn't bring myself to decorate in Gryffindor colors alone, so I thought this would be a good compromise."

"It's fine," she said sharply, not wanting to admit that the room had grown on her. She liked the warmness of it, the feeling she got while looking at it, like it was both welcoming and mysterious, fiery yet comfortable. It occurred to her suddenly that if the room were a woman, it would be much like she had once been.

"Only 'fine'?" Tom asked, searching her eyes, and then letting his gaze trail along the rest of her face, from her high forehead to her cheekbones to her narrow chin, and finally her pink mouth. "What do you dislike? I can change it for you easily."

"I don't dislike anything, it's fine," said Ginny, reaching for a piece of dark chocolate.

"If you don't _dislike_ anything, then you may as well admit you _like_ it, my dear."

Ginny sighed, and then bit into the chocolate. It was very bitter and made Ginny's mouth feel dry, but it tasted so incredible with a hint of spice and roses that she didn't mind. "Fine. I like it."

Tom smiled, satisfied. "Now…was that so hard?"

Ginny rolled her eyes, but didn't respond. She just watched as his eyes continued to roam her face, and then her still damp red hair. Something deep in her stomach squirmed when his gaze lowered to her long neck and bare white shoulders, but before this venture turned indecent, he looked into her eyes again.

"How about some music?" he asked, taking out his wand, and with a wave music began to play. It matched the room, with drums that reminded her of something African, seductive Spanish guitar, and a woman's husky voice singing in some warm-toned language. The drum beat was quick, the guitar slow, and though that should have clashed it didn't. It sounded almost…primal.

"Why are you in here?" Ginny wondered, tilting her head to the side a little with curiosity.

"I thought you could use a little…company," Tom responded slowly, his voice low in both volume and tone, his eyes looking deep into hers. Once again, he had that expression as though he were looking into her soul, and it made Ginny uncomfortable. Still, she refused to look away, and she glared back with a look of defiance and challenge. This only seemed to encourage him, and slowly he downed the glass of champagne, took the chocolate from her hand and placed it onto the tray and then pushed it to the other side of the bed, crawled up and laid beside her, an elbow on the gold pillow next to her, his head resting against his hand.

She looked at him in confusion. He had been odd all day, and she found this unusual familiarity much more disturbing than his cold amusement. She wanted the dark Tom back.

"What do want from me, Tom?" she asked breathlessly.

"Oh…" Tom whispered back, and the fingers of his left hand trailed slowly up the fabric of her nightgown, not with enough pressure to touch her skin but still most certainly touching her on purpose. When he reached the line between improper and intimate, his hand stopped, and he drew circular designs on her mid-thigh with his middle finger. "I think you know what I want, Ginevra."

She shoved his arm away. "Get away from me."

"No," he said, and he leaned in closer, his left hand moving to the other side of her so he looked down into her eyes. "You don't really want me to."

"Yes," she insisted loudly, and tried to push him away from her. "I do. Leave me alone."

"Kiss me, and I will," he promised.

"_What?_" Ginny gasped, her eyes wide with shock, her hands frozen on his broad shoulders.

"Kiss me," Tom insisted, his voice thick and gentle. "And I'll leave you alone tonight, and again for as long as you want tomorrow."

"I would _never,_" Ginny spat, "Kiss you."

"That's too bad…" Tom sighed wistfully, and his breath smelled of alcohol and chocolate. "Because that means _I _will have to kiss _you_, and I won't be going anywhere afterwards."

Furious, Ginny used all her strength to push him away (and still felt as though he allowed her to), and sat up. "What the hell is wrong with you?" she demanded. "You've been acting weird all day, and now this? You can't kiss me, and you can't stay in here. You might have me hostage, but I won't let you take advantage of me like that! Now get out!"

Tom only smiled. "There's the feisty Ginevra that I've missed."

He reached towards her face and she flinched away, but he took hold of her hair. Not roughly, but gently, and he lifted it off her shoulders and held it back. Again he examined her chest – not her breasts, but the curve of her shoulders, the shape of her collarbone, her long neck. She was surprised by this move and momentarily stunned into silence, but then she tried to get out of the bed. She stopped when he gripped her hair harder and she realized that any further movement would only pull her hair. In a desperate move she tried to reach for the wand, but in that moment Tom leaned forward and before she could object, his mouth was on hers.

Ginny closed her eyes and quickly clenched her teeth together to avoid his deepening the kiss, and since she knew any attempts to pull away would fail, she sat still and waited for him to finish. She couldn't help but notice the unexpected softness of his lips, and then she couldn't help but notice the softness of the kiss. She'd expected something hard and hurried, but that wasn't what this kiss was. It was gentle, almost tender. His lips were barely brushing hers, and his only movements were small circles that almost massaged her own soft lips. His mouth opened only once, but not to attempt to push his tongue into her mouth, but to open and close on her lips, drawing her lips closer, pushing his mouth against hers only a little firmer. She shivered when she heard a soft sound of satisfaction deep in his throat, and when he finally pulled away she could taste champagne on her lips.

His eyes had been closed as well, but now they both opened their eyes at the same time and they looked at each other with astonished looks, though Tom's held more satisfaction and Ginny's held more sadness.

Tom released Ginny's hair and it fell down around her shoulders, and he lowered his hands by first cupping her face, then trailing his cool fingertips down her neck, then caressing her shoulders with his plans before pulling his hands away. But instead of putting them by his sides, he placed them on her legs. He moved slowly and continued to look her in the eye – she was too stunned to move – and he raised her nightgown to expose her knees, then placed his cold hands on her warm skin and massaged her knees in circles.

Finally, the situation clicked in her head, and Ginny shook herself out of her trance.

She rolled out of the bed, her whole body hitting the floor hard. She was only there for a second before getting to her feet, and spinning to face Tom with tears in her eyes.

"GET OUT!" she screamed, her voice hoarse with anger and despair.

"Why?" asked Tom leisurely, in dulcet tones. "Did you like it more than you thought you would?"

"No," she said sharply, "I want you to get out because I _hate you_."

Like he had that morning, Tom reacted to those words more than she thought he would. He covered his flinch by standing, and towering over her. "Love and hate are very close to each other, Ginevra. They both inspire fiery passion."

"Tom, I _hate you!_" she screamed, nearly at the top of her lungs. Her throat already burned from the force of her voice, but she kept going. "Don't you understand? I hate you! I don't want you near me, I don't want you touching me, I don't want you _kissing _me!"

"Your reaction said otherwise, my d-"

"Stop calling me pet names, Tom." she demanded, her hands balling into fists. "I hate you, and you have no right! The only person I will _ever_ love is Harry, and you have kept us apart for years."

She was beginning to choke on her tears, but she tried desperately to force the sobs back. Meanwhile, something cold had crept into Tom's eyes.

"Harry isn't enough for you. You should-"

"Shut the **fuck up**_, you disgusting worm!_" she charged him now, and with all her strength she shoved him away from her. She was triumphant when he actually stumbled back. "You fucking bastard child, you _pathetic _excuse for a human being! Harry has spent most of his life helping others, he saved the world, he continues to strive to be productive, and what have you accomplished?" She was breathless with rage, and though the coldness quickly filling Tom's being should have made her pause, it only made her angrier. "All you do is take and take and take and give nothing back. There's no _point_ to your existence! You're worthless, do you hear me? _Worthless._ And I would rather die then let a disgusting thing like you touch me again!"

Tom stared at her, unmoving as a statue, so Ginny crossed the plush carpet, pointing to the pocket she knew he kept the wand in. "Go on, then," she continued. "Take out the wand. I'm not afraid. Perform the Killing Curse, because if the only reason I'm here is to fall in love with you then you might as well kill me. It's not possible for me to love something so evil, I will _never fall in love with you_, I would rather-"

Ginny's rant was cut off when a blinding pain filled her face, and she found herself flying to the side, her ribs hitting a table and she could almost swear she heard one crack. She blinked the tears from her eyes, gasped in agony and turned, and saw Tom quickly approaching her. He had backhanded her, she realized, and the murderous look in his eyes terrified her. She tried to run, but he grabbed her by the hair. He threw the table out of his way and threw her against the wall, further bruising her body and causing another injury to her head. She cried out in pain and weakly tried to fight him off when Tom gripped her by the waist and lifted her up, holding her against the wall. She was at his eye-level now, and the dark, cruel look had returned to them, along with a cold fury.

"You will die only when I'm finished with you, Ginevra Weasley," he growled, his voice coarse. "And I won't be finished with you until you love me – and you _will love me._"

Ginny found the alcohol on his breath repulsive now, and tried to push him away, but he refused to budge. "There's nothing you can do-"

"_Love me, Ginevra_," Tom insisted, and the cacophony of his harsh voice, the primal drums, the loud guitar and shrill singer hurt her ears. "Everything will be so much simpler if you just give in and _love me._"

"I wo-"

"No, Ginevra, refusal is not acceptable," he spat, and she winced at the rage in his voice. "You will love me. You must love me. I worked too hard for this! I refuse to believe that it was all wrong!"

"That _what_ was all wrong?" Ginny asked, wincing in the pain at her waist from the pressure of his grip and her weight.

"The books!" Tom roared, as though she was supposed to know all along. "The stories and the techniques and the studies! I did everything, everything right today – I asked about your feelings, tried to discuss your interests, kept eye contact, examined your body, fed you aphrodisiacs and surrounded you with arousing colors and scents. I was damn charming and polite and I followed every seduction technique the experts said would work!"

"You…you were trying to seduce me?" Ginny asked in surprise, though now it all made sense. The false friendliness and 'dears' and even the oysters.

"You are supposed to _want_ me now! Why didn't it work?" The anger was disappearing from his voice, and now he just sounded confused. Casually, he threw her to the ground as though she were a doll he no longer wanted to look at. Her nose hit the ground first, and she knew that soon it would begin to bleed.

"It didn't work," she said calmly into the floor, her voice sounding strange after her nose injury, "Because I'm not attracted to you. You can't seduce someone who isn't attracted to you, and you can't _make _someone attracted to you. It's chemistry, it's there or it isn't."

"There was a time you would have wanted me."

"That was when I didn't know you. You disgust me too much for me to want you now."

She heard her bedroom door close a moment later. Ginny looked around and realized with relief that Tom had left. She got to her feet and took a napkin from the tray, pressing it against her nose as it began to drip blood. Quietly, she moved the tray to a table, and then crawled back into bed. She had to sit up to wait for the blood to stop, and while she sat there, she began to cry. Not the loud sobs she'd initially felt building, but a quiet, despairing cry with silent tears dripping down her cheeks.

She missed Harry so much she felt like she was going to break apart. Without him, a part of her heart was missing and she felt that hole so strongly she wanted to die. But there was nothing she could do about it. The way things were going, it looked as though she would never see him again – especially if she continued to throw her love for Harry in Tom's face.

Tom. His actions today terrified her, and as she slipped down under the opulent covers, she felt even more terror at the possibilities of what he could do next.

* * *

**Artificial:** I hate to be a beggar, but here I am, begging: PLEASE review! I know, I'm terrible at leaving reviews too, but I know you guys are out there reading this and whether you liked it or not, I need your opinions. At this point, your comments could easily shape the direction of the story, not to mention will help me improve my writing and storytelling skills (important for aspiring novelists like me!). So please, please, please. If you read, please leave a review. I love hearing your feedback, whether praising or critical! Oh – and Happy Valentine's/Single's Awareness Day!


	20. Amor

A/N: I meant to have this up earlier, but I was sick and also turned 24, so…there's that. At least I've gotten to where I'm updating once a month? I'm hoping to work my way to once a week!

Dedication: I asked for prompts on my Tumblr, and received a few amazing ones. So this chapter is dedicated to the people who gave them to me, because without them this chapter would still have 0 words written! Thanks: **worldwithinworld** for the word 'distance', **thebirdofthornfield** for the lovely art prompt (and Erin Mulvehill for creating the art) and **shestheonebeneathmywings** for 'energy'. I tried to represent these all in both literal and subtle ways. Also thanks to **agoodflyting** for offering a punishment for my not finishing this tonight so intense I had no choice but to get writing (a day without internet? Uh – no thanks!).

Disclaimer: JK owns Harry Potter, not me.

Enjoy!

* * *

_I curse this love that so eludes me_

- The Phantom of the Opera, Ken Hill

* * *

For a moment, she thought that the room was full of smoke. But the smoke was only steam, rising in thick white spirals from the water of her bath. She'd taken to having baths as hot as she could possibly stand, and though she was sure there was some deep philosophical reason, she couldn't think of it. Perhaps the sting of the heat kept her in reality when she would much rather be in a fantasy world. Or maybe the heat represented the passion Tom wanted her to have but which she lacked. Or it could have been a reminder of her danger. The frog put in cool water that is slowly heated will stay until it's cooked to death. The frog placed directly in hot water will jump out.

Ginny wished there was some way of her jumping out of the hot water she was in. She tried to form all sorts of escape plans, but they were all foiled by the fact that she apparently lacked the ability to perform an Unforgivable on Tom. And even if she could, how would she ever get to the wand? She'd thought of perhaps seducing him, pretending she finally loved him and slipping the wand out of his robes unnoticed. But she couldn't imagine herself seducing him, and she was sure he would see right through it.

But then, what was she supposed to do? Just sit and wait until she was cooked?

Tom was most definitely cooking up something big. His attempt to seduce her was just the beginning. He wouldn't give up there. He would keep trying to force her to fall in love with him until it destroyed her. Whatever his next plan was, it could easily be the most frightening.

Ginny hadn't seen Tom since he'd stormed from her room that night. She couldn't be sure, but it felt like it had been almost a week ago. Since then, trays of food appeared at her door four times a day (three meals and a cup of some sort of slightly sweet, slightly spicy herbal tea in the evening), and when she placed them outside her door they disappeared. She occasionally heard movement in the hallway, but he never knocked on her door. He had left the cottage a few times, but she never bothered to find out why or to leave her room at all except to go to the bathroom and back.

With nothing much to do except read the books in her room, Ginny had made it a habit to bathe twice a day, once in the morning and once at night. This was her evening bath. And she knew that when she left there would be a silver tray with a glass teacup in front of her door. The first couple times it had appeared she'd ignored it, afraid some sort of love potion had been combined with it. But one particular night she'd been very thirsty and frustrated and had given in. Now she found the taste soothing, and it calmed her raw nerves enough that she could sleep.

Finally, Ginny left the bath, her otherwise pale skin tinged an angry red from the water.

She unplugged the tub and went to the sink. The mirror was clouded from the steam, but she swore for a moment that the girl looking back at her wasn't her. The water had darkened her auburn hair to almost a brownish-looking color, and the humidity in the room made it wild. Her eyes were in slits as she stared back at her reflection and then, slowly, she lowered her gaze. She couldn't stand seeing this pale, thin shadow of the fierce creature she had once been.

Distance. That was one word she couldn't quite seem to get out of her head. There was so much distance between that self and her current one, between who she was and who she ought to be. There was distance between herself and the life she wanted, between herself and the love of her life, between herself and the broken remains of her family, between herself and her happiness. What she wanted more than anything was to close that distance. To be the almost Amazonian warrior woman she had been on her way to becoming, to being with her family and marrying Harry and having her dreams come true.

It had all been in her grasp, and it felt as though the tips of her fingers had brushed against those things and then they were cruelly torn from her by a voice inside her head.

She was back to thinking about Tom again. But what else was she supposed to think about? Tom had made himself the center of her universe. He had filled her head and stolen her soul and isolated her from everyone she loved, first figuratively and then literally. And now he wanted to be even more the core part of her life. He wanted her love.

What would he be capable of in his attempts to win it? And what could she possibly do to stop him?

Ginny took a large white towel and wrapped it around her still-pink skin and opened the door. The steam escaped into the hall, but it evaporated into nothingness before it got very far. She stepped out onto the floor of the hallway and immediately saw something that caused a chill to run down her spine.

There was no tray in front of her door.

With a frown, Ginny rushed forward and stared at the tiny swirls in the wood floor as though they would rearrange themselves to form the expected tray. But there was no change. Slowly, she opened the door to her room and cautiously stepped inside.

Every night for the last six days there had been a cup of tea waiting for her. And now it was missing. She was waiting for Tom to make a move – perhaps this was the beginnings of it.

Quickly Ginny went into her room and shut the door behind her.

"Well now…hello beautiful."

With a small scream, Ginny spun around to find Tom reclining on her bed, his long arms behind his head. As she gripped the towel closer to her body, Tom leisurely moved from this position, first sitting with his legs out and then slowly moving them around to the edge of the bed and standing, all without taking his intense gaze off of Ginny. She quickly realized with surprise that he was wearing muggle clothing again, though now he wore black from head to toe.

He smirked. "Ginevra…you really look quite stunning in that fashion."

She fought back an urge to vomit, and turned towards the door, trying to protect her modesty though feeling sure he must have seen her nude while still living in her head. "Go away, Tom. You know there's nothing you can do to make me fall in love with you, so there's no point in talking like that."

"Ah, but I think that there is…" she heard his movement and tried to move away, but he crossed the room too quickly and she felt a cool finger run up her spine. She tried to spin and shove his arm away, but he suddenly gripped her around the back of the neck and held her still. She felt his hot breath on her right ear for a few seconds before he spoke.

"What if you just _pretended_ to be in love with me?" he whispered, and she felt his fingers running through her damp hair, and then gently pulling those strands behind her ear. "If you pretend you feel something long enough, eventually you will actually feel that way. And in return I'll keep speaking nicely to you, sweet girl."

"I don't like you talking to me like that, so no thanks," Ginny said roughly, pulling the towel tighter around her while water dripped off her hair and skin making a puddle on the pale wood floor.

"It could be much worse," he growled, and Ginny shivered at the pure violence in his voice. "I have been very kind to you, very patient, but my patience is growing thin."

"Then let me go," Ginny insisted, trying and failing to pull herself free from Tom's grip. "I'm never going to fall in love with you, so there's no point in keeping me trapped here with you any longer. Just let me go home if you have no use for me."

"You think you will _never _love me?" Tom chuckled in her ear. "As long as you are with me, it is only a question of time. In time you will grow to love me…_I know it._"

"No. I won't."

"As I said, Ginevra, my patience is running dry. Pretend you love me, and things will be easier for the both of us."

"I refuse."

"Are you quite certain?"

"Yes."

She cried out in pain as he flung her across the room. A coffee table got in her way and she fell into it, hitting its surface hard, the towel falling from her hands as she braced herself against the impact. The towel remained around her body, but it was dangerously low.

With a gasp, she turned to face Tom. He towered over her, his dark eyes angrier than she had ever seen them. His hands shook with rage as he took the wand from his blazer pocket.

"Let me give you a taste of what it will be like when I grow tired of waiting for you…" he said. With a flick of his wand, she flew across the room once more, hitting the end of the bed hard. It felt as though her ankles and wrists were restrained to the high footboard, and the towel slowly slipped down, going from a shield for her slim body to a pile of fabric on the floor. Her face was burning, but so were her eyes – burning with the fire of defiance and hatred.

Tom barely seemed to notice her nakedness, except to poke the tip of the wand between her ribs. Ginny winced, but refused to make any sound.

"What are you, anyway?" Tom hissed. "Look at you, wasting away because you can't be in your family nest, or near your precious Harry Potter. You've grown thin and white."

"This happened because of _you,_" Ginny snapped. "Because you isolated me, and drove me mad, and then kidnapped me! What do you expect?"

"I expected some fight to still be in you!" Tom snarled. "I expected you to fight back, and then eventually to see the sense in loving me and giving me that power and becoming my queen! Not this pathetic, useless thing that neither fights nor gives in, but sits there in limbo doing nothing!"

Ginny tried to pull free of her magical restraint, tried to lunge at Tom in rage. "You didn't seem to like it much when I fought you the last time you were in here. You didn't like having to face the fact that you're worthless-"

"_I_? _I _am worthless?" Tom moved forward and bent down, putting his face only inches from hers and his eyes at her level. "You sit and do nothing day after day after day, too weak to fight me and too stupid to love me. There is no point to _your_ existence, you pathetic excuse for a witch!"

The worst of the sting these words caused was that he was partially right. What was she doing, reading in this room all the time? What pathetic witch doesn't fight her captor? She was wasting so much valuable time, and for what? To sit there becoming thinner and thinner, slowly wasting away. He may offer her food, but her nerves were too frayed to allow her to eat much of it. Add that to her lack of movement and spirit and energy and…she was really becoming nothing.

She fought the tears, and though she knew he could see them build in her eyes she wouldn't let them fall. There was no fire in her voice when she spoke. "Go to hell, Tom. Just…go and burn in hell."

He slowly straightened, his hands behind his back. He stood tall and towered over her. Ginny wanted to stand tall, too, but knew she would feel even more exposed, so she continued to stand with her back bent, her shoulders and head low.

The next thing Ginny knew was fierce pain and lights in front of her eyes. She screamed, and coughed, and it took a moment before she could see Tom's raised hand and the drops of red blood dripping down onto her white breasts. He had backhanded her, and her lip had broken open.

Carefully, Ginny slowly drew in breath to resist whimpering as her bottom lip throbbed and bled, but there wasn't any time to speak. Tom had brought his face in close again, and he hesitated a moment inches from her face. She looked into his eyes and shuddered at the nothingness she saw there. And then his lips were on hers again, pushing hard and painfully against her cut. She tried to pull back but one of his hands was tangled in her wet hair, keeping her from moving. She tried to pull a hand free again to grab the wand, but she still couldn't move.

There was nothing seductive or heated in this kiss. It was hard and calculated. He moved his lips only over the broken part of hers, causing her wound to burn in pain. When he pulled away, her blood was on his mouth.

"Love me. Love me, or this is just the beginning of it all, and you will know what monster my charming façade is hiding," he said breathlessly.

"No," she said immediately.

He almost looked surprised. "…_No?_ You want more of this treatment?"

"No. It won't make me love you. And no, I will never love you."

She saw Tom's hands begin to shake, and he closed his eyes tight. "Once more, and let me make this clear. If you do not agree to at least pretend to love me, then there will be severe consequences, for you and all those you love."

"No."

"Damn you!" he screamed, and flung the wand at the nearest wall. They both watched it fall to the ground, and Ginny was relieved to see it hadn't broken. "Damn you, love me! Love me or else!"

"No."

"Love me or I will kill Harry Potter!"

Ginny hesitated, swallowed, and said, "No." It was impossible for her to fall in love with Tom, even if she tried. And if Tom was going to kill Harry, he would do it either way.

"LOVE ME!" Tom roared.

"**No**."

Tom's hand raised again and Ginny flinched, waiting for another impact. But when none came, she looked at him, and saw his hands shaking again. He lowered his arm.

"Very well," he breathed. "You have left me with no other choice."

He turned, collected the wand and left her bedroom, the door closing softly behind him. Ginny's hands and feet were released, and she fell to the floor. She quickly took up the towel and pressed it to her lips, and then got to her feet. Her legs were shaking as she slowly looked around the room. She noticed the tea sitting by the bedside.

Tom was going to kill Harry.

In a moment, Ginny rushed to her dresser and threw on the first clothing she laid her hands on – something Tom evidently wanted to see her in but that she would never wear herself – and rushed out of the room. She intended to block the front door with her body, and to take the wand if she could. She stood by the door waiting for Tom to appear, praying she wasn't too late. A nearby mirror showed her what she was wearing. Black lace-covered shorts, and a pale blue blazer that covered a white shirt that had dark red spots along the front of it. She raised a hand to her mouth and her fingers felt wet blood dripping down her face.

It was in this quiet moment that she began to hear clinking noises coming from the kitchen. With a deep breath, she walked forward, heading into the kitchen with slow, uncertain steps. As she drew closer, she thought she could smell something familiar.

The kitchen was covered with various potion ingredients, and over the top of the stove Tom had set a high-quality cauldron. He was bent over this cauldron now, his hair quickly becoming as wild as Harry's from the spirals of smoke that rose from the surface of whatever potion he was making.

Compelled by curiosity, Ginny moved forward, walking on her bare toes in an attempt to keep from being heard. Tom was stirring the cauldron and muttering something to himself in a language she didn't understand, and she felt sure she could get reasonably close without being noticed. If she was lucky, he may have left the wand on some surface where she could grab it.

As she drew closer, Ginny began to recognize the smells. She could definitely smell the vanilla-and-almond candles she and Harry used to burn as they talked, and maybe that richer smell was the tea with milk and a bit of yak butter her mother used to make for her when she was a child. There was a fresh smell that could possibly be the green of a Quidditch field, and she couldn't be sure of it, but she thought she caught a wiff of the muggle aftershave Harry sometimes used. All these familiar, safe scents drew her in and comforted her, while at the same time making her blood run cold.

A glance at the top of the potion confirmed her horrible suspicions. The potion had a beautiful mother-of-pearl sheen.

"_NO_!" she screamed, turning to run back up the stairs in terror, but before she could take three steps she found herself again restrained, this time to a wall. She saw Tom glare at her with irritation as he tucked the wand back into his pocket, but she couldn't just wait for the worst to happen, she had to do the only thing she could to defend herself.

She spoke. "No, please, Tom, you don't understand…that potion doesn't create love, it _doesn't_, it just creates obsession, infatuation, it's not the same thing, it's not-"

"Be quiet," Tom demanded as he picked up a crystal bottle. She watched, sick with fear as he began to fill it.

Whimpering, she continued, "Tom it's not love, it won't do any good, _please_ try to understand. It's not going to make me love you." He continued to calmly fill the potion bottle. "You can't make me take it, Tom! You can't make me drink it! I won't do it, I won't!"

She watched and shook as he finished filling the bottle, and turned and began to walk towards her. With all her might she fought the restraints, and when that didn't work, she begged.

"Please Tom…_please_…there must be something human in you, something that is capable of mercy…please don't make me drink that. I'm _begging you_ Tom, please don't do this to me," her shoulders shook as she sobbed, and the salt from her tears stung her open lip. "I'll do anything you ask, I'll try to pretend to love you, just don't do this to me. _Have mercy_! Please, _please_ Tom, please."

He stopped a few feet before her. Her blood was still on his lips as he raised the bottle and held it beneath her nose. "I wonder…" he said slowly, as he moved the bottle and held it under his own nose. "What does it smell like to you?"

"_Please_…" Ginny whimpered, tears running down her cheeks freely. "Don't do this, Tom. Please."

He reached a finger out and traced the structure of her face with his cold fingertips and all Ginny could do was whimper, having run out of words to convince him to stop this.

And then – he tilted his head back and drank the potion himself.

Ginny's eyes went wide as she watched him swallow, and she wondered if somehow he had switched the potion inside the glass without her noticing. She held her breath and stood there, shaking, waiting. A second went by, and Tom opened his eyes to look at her.

"W-why…why would you do that?" she whispered. She felt an odd sense of relief when his eyes remained cold.

"My kindness doesn't work," he said, his voice level. "My anger doesn't work. Perhaps if I could feign love, that _would_ work."

A new fear filled her, and horrible visions of an even further obsessed and now infatuated Tom filled her head, of the new dangers and horrors that lay ahead of her. She took in a shaking breath as her lips trembled. "And…?"

"And…" he repeated slowly, and they both stood in silence for a few seconds more, both waiting for the sudden, complete change the potion would soon cause. After a minute, Tom turned and threw the empty bottle at the cauldron. She heard the crash of the glass and the thick splash sound of the potion though Tom's back blocked her view. He turned back to her, a look of disgust on his face. "Nothing! Nothing! I feel nothing!"

He removed the wand from his pocket once more and released Ginny from her magical bonds. She looked at him fearfully, ready to turn and run if need be. "You…you don't feel any different?"

"I feel nothing new! It didn't work, it didn't _do_ anything!" Tom shouted angrily, pacing the floor before her. "This was supposed to work! What else am I supposed to do? What am I supposed to do now?!"

She knew the question wasn't for her, so she didn't answer. Instead, she watched him pace angrily for a while, and then he brushed past her and went through the entryway and up the stairs. Ginny watched him leave numbly.

Amortentia – the strongest love potion in creation – had no affect on Tom Riddle.

What sort of monster was she trapped with?

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**Artificial:** 'But it is only a question of time. In time you will grow to love me, I know it' is a line from Ken Hill's Phantom of the Opera that I have stolen. So credit where it's due. Please review – you have no idea how helpful and motivating they are for me!


	21. Doors and Last Words

A/N: I swear, one day I will get the hang of updating weekly.

Zero excuses for the wait. Excuse for the shortness and poor quality of this chapter: I don't feel well today, at all. But also…I don't know, I was just blocked this whole chapter. It was a huge struggle to get ANY words out. Maybe because this is the only chapter for a while that isn't planned completely through. Apologies for any continuity and/or grammar and/or stylistic issues.

**Disclaimer:** JK Rowling owns Harry Potter. I own a scented candle and some pens.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Reviews make me smile, and I could use some smiles!

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She stood before the dark wood door, shaking. She didn't want to knock. She hated the very idea of knocking, of waiting for an invitation inside that room. She didn't want to hear the voice on the other side of the door, didn't want to see the darkness within, didn't want to speak to the room's occupant.

But what choice did she have? She couldn't sit alone forever, it would drive her mad. She lived alone with her thoughts enough as it was, and now that she hadn't slept in days it was just too much suffering for her to bear. And she was on a mission.

Slowly, hesitantly, she raised a hand and knocked on the smooth surface of Tom Riddle's door.

Ginny stood in the hall, shaking in her green dress. She swallowed hard and waited, but she heard no voice. Carefully, she leaned forward and pressed an ear against the door of his bedroom. She heard no movement. Raising a trembling hand, she knocked again. This time she heard fabric shifting, and then a low voice. "What could you possibly want, Ginevra?"

She took in a sharp breath and jumped away from the door. "I…I need something."

"Obviously," came Tom's dry voice from the other side of the door. "What is it?"

She curled her fingers into fists. "You-you said I could write a letter to Mafalda Prewett, weeks ago."

"So I did," she could hear him sigh. "I never thought you would take me up on that."

When she heard movement, she stood with her back against the opposite wall. She hadn't seen Tom in a week, not since his failed attempt with the amortentia. He hadn't even made her trays of food. Every morning she would see evidence that he'd been in the kitchen during the night, but she wouldn't see him. Now that she hadn't slept for three days, she heard him go downstairs and back to his room at night, but she never tried to speak to him. Until now, she hadn't wanted to.

His door opened, and Ginny couldn't help but feel a bit of pleasure at noticing he looked as bad as she did. There were dark circles under his eyes, his dark hair was untidy, his clothing wrinkled as though he hadn't changed them in days. His skin was too pale, sickly pale. He looked at her through the light of the hallway with narrowed eyes.

"You want to write a letter to a woman you've never spoken to?"

"Well…" she didn't know how to respond without making her intentions obvious.

A ghost of a smirk on his face. "You're hoping she'll give the letter to your family."

Caught. But how could she not be? It was obvious she wanted contact with her family, and what else was Mafalda going to do with a letter from a distant relative other than send it to her family?

Ginny expected Tom to shut the door in her face, but he examined it instead. He seemed to note her own pale skin and dark circles. And then he opened the door and stepped inside, seeming to assume she would follow him., so she did.

His room was not quite what she had been expecting. She had imagined it to be exceptionally neat, with a few possessions in their place and otherwise mostly bare walls and tables, with black and green as the main colors.

Instead, the room was mostly cream and amber colored, but this was hardly noticeable beneath the piles of papers and books, words scribbled on chalkboards on the walls. It smelled of ink and old parchment. Quickly, Ginny glanced at some of the words that were scattered about her. 'Eros' and 'love' were predominating, but there were also lists of potion ingredients. Books with names of magical theorists and unfamiliar potion ingredients were everywhere, a broken vial on one side of the room was oozing some sort of shiny pink liquid, and even a few old, unfamiliar wedding photographs were strewn about.

Tom was studying love, and probably how to create love with magic. She felt confident he would find no answers, but a little fearful voice in her head wondered if he wasn't powerful enough to make his own spell to manipulate love. It already existed in her, after all – all Tom had to do was change it's direction from Harry to himself.

Ginny swallowed and looked around the room a bit more, noticing the bed in a corner, unmade. It looked like Tom was sleeping when she had knocked.

"As promised," Tom was saying as he cleared a table by dumping it's contents on the floor, "I will write the letter, and you will tell me what to write."

Ginny nodded, and then yawned. "I also couldn't find any potion ingredients. I need something to make me sleep."

"How long since you slept last?"

"Three days, I think."

She saw Tom's frown, and wondered how he could possibly be concerned. Maybe he was worried she would die before he could make her fall in love with him.

He dipped a quill in dark ink. "I'll make something once we're finished with the letter."

Ginny nodded, and after a few turns around the room she finally found a chair, covered in a sheet with a cauldron full on books sitting on top of it. She cleared the chair and brought it over to sit beside Tom. Once she did, she couldn't resist closing her eyes resting her head against the table. She was _so tired, _exhaustion clung to every bone in her body, particularly the ones about her eyes.

"Why haven't you slept?" asked Tom as he addressed the envelope. Ginny glanced up and noted that her relative lived in a flat in London now.

"Normally I would refuse to answer that," Ginny reminded him, and she closed her eyes again. "But I'm just too tired to care. I don't know why I can't sleep, I just can't. My mind won't shut off. Every time I get close I just…jolt awake, for no reason at all."

Tom made some sort of understanding sound, and she heard the quill scratching on the parchment now. "What is it you want to write?"

"What plans do you have?"

"You want to ask her about her plans for the future? Really?"

Ginny shook her head and sat up. "No. I mean you. You've had weeks. You must have an idea of what you plan on doing now."

Slowly, Tom set the quill down, and then he rubbed his hands together as though he were cold. "I do."

"And?"

He looked at her through the corner of his eyes. "And why should I tell you, Ginevra?"

Ginny blinked at him, and tried to think of a reason beyond that she was trapped with him and she had a right to know what she was being dragged into. This wasn't a reason that would work on Tom Riddle. She needed a reason that would give him something to gain.

But to her surprise, he smiled and said, "Do you remember that what I want is to call you my Queen?"

Ginny wanted to point out that she hated it, but what was the point? And she was just too exhausted to care. Everything felt fuzzy, unattached, not real, like there was a layer between herself and the real world. What did it matter what she said? He knew she hated him. There was no reason to repeat that. "Yes, I remember."

"I'm going to make that a reality."

"How?"

"By ruling the whole of the Earth, not merely the magical community."

Ginny stared at him wide-eyed, but his gaze was locked on the blank parchment. "_How_?"

"Preferably with as little bloodshed as possible."

Ginny frowned, confused. "But…but why would you care whether there's bloodshed or not?"

"I told you," Tom sighed, turning in his chair so his body faced her. "If I do indeed have a conscience, I have no desire to weight it with unnecessary deaths. I would rather not risk it."

"But-"

And then they heard the strangest sound, coming from downstairs.

A door had opened and closed. The front door had opened, paused, and then closed. Someone had _come into the house._

Ginny and Tom locked eyes for only a second before Ginny leapt from the chair, scrambling for the door to the room, which had swung closed the moment she was on her feet. It was Harry, it had to be Harry. He'd found her finally. Or maybe he didn't know she was there, but it didn't matter. He would soon.

So opened her mouth to scream Harry's name, but found herself unable to make a sound. Tom must have cast a spell on her! But it didn't matter, if Harry could just _see_ her she felt like everything would be alright. She would be saved. She could go home, and everything would be okay again.

As her hand met the cool metal of the door handle, she felt Tom's arm wrap around her waist and he yanked her from the door. She hit the floor hard, hitting her head on jars full of Monkshood. As she fought to see straight, she heard _him_ open the door instead.

"Who is down there?!" he called out, in a voice deeper than normal. He was disguising his voice, so Harry wouldn't recognize it, but Ginny knew he was too smart for that. He'd know it was Tom, and then he would come here and save her. Harry could beat Tom…he'd done it before. Harry was going to rescue her!

But the voice that called back was rough and unfamiliar. "It's me!"

Ginny heard Tom sigh, and saw him lower his wand arm. He turned and glared down at her, and then reached down and yanked her up by her shoulder. She had a difficult time staying on her feet – everything was blending together, her vision blurred after hitting her head and after not sleeping for so long – but managed to stay upright until they reached her room. Tom tossed her in, and then closed the door and locked it.

Once she could see again, she tried to speak. She fought to say 'Harry' with all her might, shaped her lips to form the word over and over again, but no sound escaped her. So she crawled to the door and pressed her ear against the crack between the wood of the door and the wood of the floor.

Tom and whoever the visitor was were arguing, that was clear from the sharp tones, the speed of their words and the raised level of volume. But they weren't loud enough for her to hear exactly what was being said. Every now and then she caught a word or two, 'take' and 'respect' and 'dark'. But it wasn't until the other voice said the word 'mudbloods' that she realized that the other voice wasn't entirely unfamiliar. It was Hades Xylander, the ex-Death Eater that had given her the records of Lord Voldemort, killed a hiker as a threat against Harry, and then tried to kill her.

She strained to hear more, closing her eyes and pressing her ear further against the crack. She steadied her breathing, tried to exhale as softly as possible. But still she could only catch a few words. 'Threat', 'death', 'little house', 'dare', 'rise again' and 'instead'. Frustrated, she sat up.

With a sigh, she tried to put the pieces of the puzzle together. 'Take' could have been anything, an oath or an item or even a person. 'Respect'…Tom had said that. Probably, Hades found it difficult to respect the Dark Lord in such a different body. 'Dark' could again be anything, but given the speakers…they probably meant 'dark mark'.

'Threat' and 'death' were terrifying words. Tom had said the first, and Hades the second. Tom wanted Hades to deliver some sort of threat of death. That had to be it. 'Little house' was too confusing entirely, but maybe Hades disliked the Dark Lord living in such a small shack? 'Rise again' was clear – Tom Riddle would rise again. 'Instead'? Maybe Tom was explaining that instead of killing 'mudbloods', they'd just be taking the whole of the earth.

If only she could have heard more words, if only there had been some way of connecting these words better. But Ginny couldn't think of anything, and she could hear the front door opening and closing again.

There, that was another hint. The door could easily be opened from the outside. Maybe…just maybe there was some way to use that information to her advantage.

Ginny stood quickly when she heard Tom's footsteps approaching her door. A soft 'click' told her that her door was unlocked, and when it opened she was face-to-face with Tom. It was strange…obviously Hades had arrived to plan something with Tom, yet if anything Tom seemed even more tired than she was.

He lifted the spell that kept her silent, and turned to walk away. Ginny followed.

"What was it Hades wanted?" she asked, trailing after Tom.

Tom shook her head. "That information is not for you."

"I deserve to know."

"Really? What makes you think that?"

"I'm involved," she said as he walked into his room. In case he intended to close the door in her face she jumped through the threshold, but he only continued towards the table he'd cleared for her letter.

"You're involved? That is poor reasoning, Ginevra," he said, picking up the addressed envelope and running his wand over it. The writing disappeared, making the paper blank again. "Being involved does not mean you have a right to all the answers."

She walked up to the table as well, and stood beside him. "Of course it does!"

He took a seat, picked up the quill, and addressed the envelope again – this time, to the Burrow.

Eyes wide, Ginny sank into her chair. "W-what are you doing?"

Tom didn't reply for a moment as he finished addressing the envelope. Then he pulled the blank parchment closer, and poised the tip of the feather quill above it. "You and I both know where this letter will end up. It may as well be sent there in the first place."

"You're letting me write to my family?" asked Ginny incredulously. There was no way Tom would allow her contact with them…was there? Why would he do this? What was she missing?

Tom's eyes were locked on the parchment. "On one condition."

"What condition?"

"You must tell them to abandon your childhood home."

Ginny felt her breath catch in her throat. He wanted her family to leave the Burrow? But…why?

Suddenly, Ginny felt a sharp pain behind her ribs. Sheer panic was crashing down on her and could only breathe in short, sharp breaths. There was only one thing that had changed. Hades. Hades had been here, and there was a threat of death.

She was already deathly pale, yet she could still feel blood draining from her hollow cheeks. "Are they in danger? Is Hades coming for them?" Ginny's voice was a low whisper, and shook with nearly every syllable.

Tom looked at her out of the corner of his eyes, and before she could read his expression, he chuckled. "No, dear Ginevra. If you will recall, I do not have compassion. If Xylander was intending to murder your family, why should I put a stop to it? It wouldn't be my fault…only his."

Ginny swallowed, and then leaned forward. "But then…why…?"

A smirk spread across his face again. "If you do ever manage to escape, I don't want you knowing where to find them. I want you to be completely lost without me."

Ginny blinked as he turned back to the parchment. "But-"

"Time to write the letter. And remember…this may well be the last words they hear from you."

Ginny leapt from her seat. "So he _is-_"

He reached out and grabbed her arm, and then roughly pushed her back into her seat. "Your family has always resisted my will, Elaine. If they resist it now, I cannot allow them to live."

Ginny took in a sharp breath, her head spinning, her vision blurring again. This wasn't real, it couldn't be real, she must be asleep, dreaming –

She realized that Tom was staring at her forearm almost in horror, in the same place he had grabbed her. She looked to see if his touch had somehow left something on her skin, and saw that her arm was still as pale and clean as it had been all day. She looked back at him, brow furrowed in confusion. "What?"

"I…I apologize, Ginevra."

Her light brown eyes narrowed on his darker ones, which were still focused on her arm. This was by far the strangest words to have passed his lips. "What do you mean by that?"

"I just remembered. You said…"

"What did I say?"

His eyes remained locked on her arm for a moment, and then he closed his eyes and shook his head, then looked her in the eye, a cruelty in his gaze again.

Tom Riddle smiled. "So, my darling. What shall your last words to your family be?"

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**Artificial: **A reminder that reviews mean the world to writers, positive or negative, short or long. If you can, please spare the time to leave your thoughts! And remember, the end of this story isn't set in stone, so your words could easily shape it! Yay exclamation points!


	22. Sleep

Author's Note: Every-other-week chapters might be the new plan, because the next chapter is going to be awfully long.

I fought pretty bad depression and anxiety to get this written, so…if it sucks that's why. I didn't realize how difficult it would to write – spoilers! – slightly happier scenes while feeling so…blah.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Please review!

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_Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleave of care__  
__The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath__  
__Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course,__  
__Chief nourisher in life's feast.__  
__~William Shakespeare,__Macbeth_

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Ginny felt the mug of tea between her hands burning her skin, but it hardly seemed to matter. Nothing seemed to matter anymore. She hadn't slept in four days, and everything felt muddled and yet clearer than it had ever been before. She could feel herself becoming delusional. For instance, as Tom left to send her warning and goodbyes to her family, she could have sworn she saw a look of concern in his eyes. And that morning, as she lay in bed and felt herself hanging in that place somewhere between asleep and awake, she thought he'd been standing in her room.

Wait. Did that make her hallucinating, not delusional? One had to do with interpreting reality, and one had to do with seeing something that wasn't there. She wasn't sure which was which at the moment, or which applied to her situation.

Whatever she was, it was getting worse. Earlier she had discovered an old Muggle record player in the sitting room; she'd only recognized it because her father had kept a smaller one hidden in her bathroom under the sink for years, hoping her mother wouldn't find it and throw it out.

Beneath it in a little wooden cupboard were piles of records. She'd gone through them for a while but stopped when she encountered one with an angel on the front. Muggle Studies had taught her all about angels, perfect beings of light with wings that protected mankind. She'd stared and stared at the picture, at the angel floating in the air and its flowing robes and large, white wings. It wasn't until an hour or so later she'd finally taken the record itself out and started it playing, after a few failed attempts (her father had never seemed clear on how they functioned). It turned out to be classical music, two pianos playing magnificent music.

But as Ginny stood in the kitchen with her cup of tea, she marveled as she realized that it was really only one piano, only the pianist made it sound like two. The name had said 'Listzet' or something like that. She ought to go through and see if she could find any others with this name on it, as she found herself really liking the music.

"Do you want that heated?"

Ginny knew she ought to be startled, but she only blinked and turned her head. It felt like she was moving exaggeratingly slowly, though she didn't mean to. Tom, of course, was standing a little ways from her, again in handsome Muggle clothing. He seemed more well-rested then he had before, though there was a dark, tired look in his eyes.

She blinked at him. "What?" Even the word felt drawn-out.

Tom approached her slowly – although maybe she just _thought _he moved slowly. "The steam from your tea stopped rising half an hour ago. It's gone cold."

Ginny looked down, and realized with horror that he was right. The sting in her skin from the cup had faded away without her noticing. But hadn't it been burning her a couple minutes ago?

This was terrible. She felt like she was going mad again. She was, probably.

"Okay," she replied, holding the cup out to Tom. He looked down at it almost accusingly, and then looked at her sharply.

"Set it down on the counter."

Confused, Ginny obeyed, and once her fingers had released it and fallen limply to her side Tom reached for the cup and picked it up. He turned to the stove where hot water was already heated – but she wasn't sure when that had happened – and poured hot water into her cup.

"I thought you were going to make me a sleeping potion," Ginny mumbled, resting her head on the cool countertop.

"I didn't have the right ingredients for a decent sleeping draught," said Tom, and she could hear the sugar jar being opened. "I picked them up yesterday, and I'll make you something before I go out."

"Out?" Ginny asked, opening her eyes again. "You're going somewhere again?"

"Yes," came Tom's voice from somewhere above her. She heard a soft 'clink' as he set her mug down beside her. Sleepily (what a weak word for sheer exhaustion!), Ginny sat up and clutched it again, and again ignored the burning sensation in her palms. She looked up at Tom, and he smirked briefly before continuing to speak. "I have…errands of a sort."

"What – what do you mean?" Ginny said, and then she yawned.

Tom walked around the counter, his pale fingertips grazing the surface as he moved. "Nothing for you to worry about, my dear. Just a few loose ends."

Suddenly, Ginny felt more awake as panic crashed into her chest. "What loose ends?" she demanded, setting her tea down and following him into the sitting room.

He stood over the record player, his fingers now drifting over it, swaying back and forth to the music. "Again – nothing for you to worry about."

"I swear, if you hurt my family, Tom-" She tried to charge at him, but stumbled over her own feet. She fell past him, and for a moment it seemed as though he would reach out and grab her. He turned a fraction of an inch, his arms moved forward and then…he lowered them and watched her hit the floor.

Once she was on the hard floor, it was difficult to convince her worn-out body to get up again. She managed to get onto her elbows before she had to take a few deep breaths.

"Tom," she gasped between breaths, "If you hurt…my family…I will…"

"You will _what_, exactly, Ginevra?" Tom said, and she felt his gaze challenge her though she couldn't see his face. "You can't even stand up."

She closed her eyes tight and with determination, she carefully got to her feet and turned to face Tom. "Don't hurt them, Tom. Don't."

She again saw the ghost of a smirk, and then it disappeared and left in its place a worn but otherwise emotionless mask. "My errands don't involve hunting down your family. I told you not to worry about it."

Ginny stared at him a moment, but soon his features were twisted and warped as her head began to spin. She stumbled again, but this time Tom nearly caught her, though his cold hands had barely brushed her own chilled skin before quickly moving away.

She stumbled forward into him and he moved backward, the bones of his hips hitting the record player with an audible thud. He winced but rather than pull away he pushed himself further into the record player.

Ginny somehow managed to right herself, to stand straight though unsteadily on her own two feet. It was only when she glanced at Tom that she began to attempt to make sense of this…incident. She looked at Tom's white hands, which were even more deathly white as he gripped the wood of the record player, almost as if in fear. She moved forward, and he slid away.

Blinking, Ginny turned towards him. "What are you doing?" she asked slowly, though she wasn't sure if she meant to speak so slowly on purpose. Her tongue felt too thick.

"What do you mean?" Tom responded coolly, turning her back towards her as he headed towards the kitchen. She watched, and realized he had left keys on the counter where they had stood earlier.

She followed him, cautiously, not wanting to provoke him, and not wanting to lose her balance again. "You're acting strangely, with the mug, and you staring at my arm yesterday, and backing away from me, and…and whatever else it was you said yesterday about…about me saying something." She was beginning to not make sense. Or she hadn't been making sense for some time, and she was just now realizing it.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

That was it. The denial proved that he _did _know that he was acting strangely. His behavior lately had been strange, there was no question about that. If he'd had some excuse for it, that would make sense. But outright denying it? Something was going on, but she didn't know what. And she couldn't even _begin_ to think of what it was. Everything was thick and slow and…off. She wanted to cry but she didn't feel sad. Everything irritated her, but at the same time she didn't _feel_ anything. Nothing was real, everything was too real, she felt like she had complete clarity yet her mind was worthless.

_Worthless. _'You're worthless, do you hear me? _Worthless. _I would rather die….', 'I would rather die…', 'I would rather die…'. She heard her own voice echoing in her head but the rest of the sentence wasn't coming to her.

Tom had his keys and was almost out of the living area when Ginny tried saying it out loud instead.

"I would rather die…" she began, carefully forming the shape of the words, almost tasting them. Tom stopped. "I would rather die…I would rather die…I would rather die…"

"Stop it," Tom whispered sharply.

"I would rather die…And I would rather die…" It was starting to come back to her now, the words from the fight after his day of attempting to seduce her. That's where these words were from, she could picture herself screaming at him, feel the rawness in her throat though she barely spoke above a whisper now. "And I would rather die…then let a disgusting thing like you…a disgusting thing…like you…touch me again. _Touch me _again."

Tom didn't speak. Instead, he began for the front door again, and Ginny tried to follow after him as quickly as she could, dancing swiftly around furniture that stood in her way. "_That's _what I said. _That's_ why you won't touch me, isn't it, Tom? But you didn't care before, when you hit me and kissed me before you tried the potion. Before the potion, Tom…" Suddenly Ginny choked on a bitter taste in the back of her throat as panic again seized her chest. "You took the potion and then you cared if you touched me, Tom…Tom, don't leave!"

He had been moving unhurriedly, putting on his Muggle coat and buttoning it carefully, putting on his shoes and tying them without magic. But he was ready now, and he headed towards the door without even glancing at her. Ginny knew better then to try and slip out beside him – he would only toss her back before opening the door, or maybe the spell would do it for him – but she tried to follow after him anyway. If the potion had actually done _something_, she needed to know about it. She **had** to know about it!

"Tom, no, we need to talk, if something happened we need to prepare-" but he was already outside. She rushed forward, suddenly moving quicker than she had in weeks, and reached for the door before it could close. The tips of her fingers brushed the side of it, and then the door closed – right on those frail fingers.

Ginny swallowed back a cry of pain, fell to the floor in agony, and waited. Her heart raced with excitement, and her mind seemed to begin to awaken. If Tom came back and opened the door and shoved her inside, at least she would have a chance to scream while the door was still open. If he didn't…

If Tom was in too much of a hurry to get away from her, then maybe he hadn't noticed her fingers being caught in the door. Maybe he hadn't noticed that there was no 'click' as the door shut. Maybe he wouldn't know that she now had a chance to get away…

She sat on the floor, whimpering the seconds away as quietly as she could. She counted in her head.

_One…_A whole second and he hadn't turned back yet.

_Two…_She could almost swear she heard his footfalls moving _away_ from the house.

_Three…_Three seconds was a long time to turn around and open a door, but then, maybe he was trying to figure out how to get her throbbing fingers out of the door jam without the neighbors hearing her.

_Four…Five…_Five seconds had come and gone. Ginny closed her eyes tight against the tears of pain and thought her heart might explode in her chest. She could almost hear it echoing in the entry hall.

_Six…Seven…Eight…_Eight whole seconds. She heard nothing coming from the other side of the thick wood door.

_Nine…_She hoped against hope she could get to 'ten'. That this was her golden chance, that it had finally come. Freedom was so close, she couldn't stand if it was torn away so soon.

_Ten. _Ten seconds. Ten whole seconds, and Tom hadn't opened the door again. Though her whole body tingled with excitement and barely contained joy, Ginny let out a small sob. The pain in her fingers was incredible and almost blinded her, but this also seemed too good to be true. It had to be some sort of trap.

So Ginny sat on the floor, her legs beneath her, and counted to fifty before she finally risked reaching up and turning the handle.

The door opened without consequence. She slipped her purple, swollen fingers out of the door jam, but wasted no time examining them. She got to her feet, looked out into the dark, empty night, and slowly set a foot on the other side of the door. A second later, the other foot joined it, and she was standing _outside. _She filled her lungs with the cool night air, and closed her eyes as she released the air from her lungs.

The air felt good. The moisture in the air felt good. Everything about the outside felt so wonderful she could hardly cope with it. Her body shook with barely-contained sobs of relief, but still sweet tears of happiness fell down her cheeks.

Ginevra Weasley was outside. Ginevra Weasley was free. She was _free._

"There's no time," she whispered to herself suddenly, and she took off running. She would run – carefully, with an eye out for Tom Riddle's shadow – to the edge of town, and there, apparate.

Ginny was going home.

* * *

Her hand – fingers twice their original size and still purple – rested on the door to the Burrow. The lights were out, and she couldn't hear anything coming from inside. Her letter had arrived before she had; the house was empty. Everyone was gone.

Well, that was for the best. Her family was somewhere safe, hopefully in a place where Tom couldn't find them. But without it's light and merry sounds, the Burrow standing against the grey twilight sky looked almost menacing. The sounds from the wild around her family home were eerie. Quickly, Ginny turned the handle and was glad to find that the door wasn't locked.

She would just stay long enough to find some hint of where her family had gone. When Tom returned to the little house and found her missing, this would be the first place he came to look. And he would most definitely be furious.

She entered the dark house and winced when she could hear the sound of her own footsteps. She was so used to the house being loud and busy. Even at night the owls made enough sound that a single footstep wouldn't be audible, at least not one as soft as hers.

Moving inwards, she saw papers spread across the dining room table, empty carpet bags around the living room and potion ingredients spilled down the stairs. Signs of a quick get-away, maybe. She prayed this meant they were quick to obey her letter and hadn't been in any actual danger. Maybe Hades had really come to attack them…

The sound of another footstep reached her ear, only she hadn't moved.

Eyes wide, she moved quickly to duck behind the table. She tried to calm her quickening breath as she listened for more movement. _Someone _was coming down the stairs, heading straight for her. Was it Hades? Could he still be searching the house? Or – oh, oh no, was her family upstairs with him? Was it a trap?

She could see it all flashing in her head now. Tom and Hades discuss details of their trap, Tom has her write her family to abandon the Burrow but never delivers it so that she will assume the place is empty and therefore safe, he leaves the door open on purpose and lets her run straight into Hades. But why? Why not kill her immediately, kill her family? Why bring them together like this?

But it made sense as a trap, so much more sense then her being lucky enough that Tom didn't notice her fingers caught in the door.

The footsteps were getting closer and closer and Ginny felt her heart in her throat. She'd go for his wand. There was nothing else she could do, really, and she wasn't going to go down without a fight.

She could see his shoes now. Simple, black ones. She held her breath as they moved closer, and she prepared to leap over the table (Merlin help her, she was having enough trouble staying on her own two feet), grab the wand and – and – and do…something.

But then, something in the back of her head clicked. Those shoes. She knew those shoes.

"Gin?" came the voice from the other side of the table.

Slowly, Ginny gripped the edge of the table and got to her feet. "Harry?" she asked breathlessly.

Harry Potter looked almost as bad as she did. He hadn't been sleeping well either, that was clear, and his face was worn. She could almost swear she saw wrinkles around his bloodshot eyes. And he was trembling from head to toe. She could she his hands shaking.

"Are…are you real?" he asked, hesitantly. He took a tiny step towards her, and Ginny felt her heart break. He was going mad, too. He was going mad without her.

She nodded as tears began to fill her eyes. She used the table to keep herself balanced as she made her way around it, and then she stumbled forward and into his arms. As she felt them wrap tightly around her she melted into his embrace, whispering his name over and over again as though she couldn't believe he was real. He felt warm, and he smelled warm. His smell was what comforted her the most, that sweet and warm scent he carried with him that reminded her of baked apples.

He held her tightly to him and cried into her hair as she sobbed into his chest. They were together again, finally together with nothing between them, not Tom or secrets or voices in her head. They were together now and it felt like it would never end.

But it would, she knew it would, so after a minute she pulled away, wiped the tears from him face and then wiped away her own. "Harry, he's going to come looking for…" she grabbed his shoulders as her vision blurred and she felt dizzy. "…for me."

"Are you okay?" he asked, holding onto her arms in an attempt to keep her upright. "Are you hurt?"

"No…well, yes," responded Ginny, holding up her fingers for his inspection. "But I haven't slept in days."

"He's been forcing you awake?"

"No, I just…haven't slept."

Harry nodded, and led her into the familiar sitting room. They sat on the couch – it felt almost strange, to sit in her own home again – and he pulled out his wand to work on fixing her fingers. "We got your letter this morning and your family left immediately. They went to Shell Cottage, but now I think…he'll probably look there, too, huh? If he was in your head, I mean…he probably knows where to look."

Ginny nodded. "They should go somewhere else. _We_ should go somewhere else. As soon as he sees me gone he'll look for me here. He went out, but I don't know how long he'll be gone."

"What happened?"

Quickly, Ginny explained everything to him, from the attic sanctuary to the day of seduction to the potion not working and then it suddenly seeming to have done something. Harry listened patiently, nodding occasionally. When she was finished, he helped her to her feet.

"I'm going to contact your family and tell them to make for Hogwarts. It's the safest place for us," he added. "Then I'll make arrangements to follow them. I think your dad has a flying car with him so he can get there easily, but we might have to apparate to Hogsmeade or something."

"I don't think I can apparate again, I'm too exhausted."

"Go upstairs and lie down for a bit, I'll get you when I've told your family everything," said Harry, directing her to the stairs. "If you're still too tired, you can just side-along with me."

Ginny nodded and began up the stairs, but after a few she stopped and turned, and stumbled back down. She fell into Harry's arms, and then kissed him. It wasn't as passionate as she imagined their reunion kiss to be, but that was only because they were both exhausted and scared, and in a hurry. There would be time for passion later.

When she pulled away, Harry pulled her close again and kissed her on the forehead. "It's going to be okay, Gin. Go get some rest. I love you."

"I love you, too," she replied, and then turned and headed up the stairs and into her room.

It was exactly as she'd left it, with clothes on the floor and books on her vanity and even Shikoba was sitting on her bed. At first she was afraid he'd been locked away in here, but then she saw bowls for food and water and the window left open. Shikoba stood and flapped when he saw her, and she went and patted him on the back, then kissed his head. She hadn't realized how much she had missed her little bird friend until she felt her chest ache at the sight of him.

She curled up on the bed carefully and felt the bird lay down beside her. Her eyes fluttered closed and finally she felt herself begin to sink into darkness….before suddenly her vision was filled with orange.

Her eyes shot open and all she could see was fire exploding around her. The heat was terrible, and she patted at her head like a madwoman when she felt her hair burning. As she moved, she saw that the skin on her arms was a much darker pink than it ought to have been. She'd been burned, but she couldn't feel it. All she could feel was the need to _get out now _and find clean oxygen. Panicked, she turned to face the door but only saw a wall of fire behind her.

The bed was surrounded by fire and the room was quickly filling with white smoke. She glanced around quickly and noticed in her cracked vanity mirror that there was a safe spot in front of it. She turned and picked up Shikoba and wrapped him in her orange skirt, then jumped through the flames. The second she hit the ground she fell and tried to breathe in, but smoke filled her lungs and she felt her throat burning. She choked and coughed and tried to crawl forward to find a way out of the room, but the door was blocked by the spreading fire. She looked behind her and saw a clear way to the window. She'd fall a couple stories, but there was a chance she'd survive it. She choked on another breath and tried to turn to face the window, when she heard a loud crunching sound.

She barely had a chance to look up and see the floor above her collapsing in before a piece of it hit her head, and everything went dark.

Ginny was finally asleep.

* * *

**Artificial:** Reviews are my new favorite thing. Leave one for me?


	23. Aflame

A/N: I accidentally overdosed on caffeine, had a massive depression episode and, surprise surprise, got lazy. I'm sorry. Basically all the stuff you've heard before, with the added warning DO NOT OVERDOSE ON CAFFIENE because it will mess you up. Watch your caffeine intake, seriously. Don't mistake energy drink for flavored water and then drink an energy drink on top of it.

Just don't. Delusions and shakes and heart palpitations are very bad. And it will last a very, very long time.

Moving on.

Anyway, I have a lot of people to thank for this chapter. First, **nerdprincess73 of Tumblr** for the word prompts she probably doesn't remember giving me at this point. Second, **lilythefreak of Tumblr** for the AWESOME graphic cover, I mean wow I love it. The candle is a perfect image for the story, and I love Ginny and the words and basically everything. Thank you! Also, apologies to whoever it was who offered artwork as a cover (and apologies that I can't remember your name!), I planned on it but it looks like I will never be able to afford any kind of commission. Sad, but true. Your work is still lovely, though! And thirdly, thank you so much to all of you for being patient with me, and liking this story despite my non-consistent updates. I'm working on it, I promise. You guys are amazing, anyway!

This chapter is dedicated to **lilythefreak** and **iron- -maiden of Tumblr**. You guys are awesome.

**(Minor spoiler warning.)** So. It seems that in every story I write, there is one scene I'm writing towards. Usually it's the one image in my head that started me writing in the first place. This time is no different. Here is the scene that made me finally sit down and come up with a Tom/Ginny fanfiction I could write. And from this scene, we are on our way out of this story. There are still about seven chapters left, but this is definitely a turning point. **(Spoiler ends.)**

Okay, before I spoil it all (and I'm sure you just want to get to the new chapter already), let me say that with this chapter I might need to bump the rating up to M. Let me know what you think, because I'm not sure where exactly the line between rated T and rated M is. Thank you.

Enjoy!

* * *

_Words are only painted fire; a look is the fire itself. _– Mark Twain

* * *

When Ginny woke, her vision was filled with red. She took in a sharp breath and jerked backwards, certain it was the red flames she saw. She could almost feel the heat on her face as she pushed herself backward. She blinked a few times to protect her eyes from the smoke, but once her vision had cleared she realized that what she was looking at was the side of a pillow. It was a ruby red throw pillow, like the one she had slept with the last few weeks.

It took her another minute to realize that she was looking at the _exact_ pillow from her bed – at least, the bed she occupied while being held hostage with Tom Riddle. A glance around the room showed her beige walls and yellow-painted furniture, which confirmed her terrible suspicions: she was back at the shack. Back with Tom.

Or was she? She knew she was at the shack, but perhaps somehow Harry had saved her from the fire. After all, there was an orange paste spread across her arms and her face, and on the nearest table sat a bottle of Blood-Replenishing Potion. It _must _have been Harry that brought her back here…but why? Why take her all the way here, instead of St. Mungo's?

Her heart sinking, Ginny realized it couldn't be Harry. He would have taken her straight to the medical help, or at least Hogwarts with her family, not back to his parent's old shack. This was especially true since he knew Tom was living there now, and he wouldn't put her back in that danger.

Somehow, Tom had gotten hold of her again. She wasn't sure how he had found her so quickly, but he had, and now there was no hope of escape. She would never again be able to be free to go where she wished and see her loved ones or choose the sort of life she wanted to lead. And Harry –

_Harry._

Harry was downstairs when the fire began. If Tom had her now…_what had he done to Harry to get her back?_

Ginny threw the covers back, and as she slipped out of bed the long, red slip-like nightgown she wore fell to her ankles. The floor was cold to her feet, but she realized this could be because they'd been burned as they were also covered with orange paste. She let a trembling hand brush against her stomach, which felt heavy. It was wrapped in heavy bandages. She must have been in terrible shape when Tom found her.

Quickly, Ginny made her way across the floor to her door. Cracking it open, she listened intently for any sound, but heard nothing. She peeked through the crack and saw only the empty hallway. With a deep breath, she ventured out into the hall, and made her way down to the end. Her body was screaming in pain, sore and burned and broken, but this wasn't the time for weakness. She had to find Tom. She had to know what Tom had done to Harry.

She reached Tom's door, hesitated a moment, afraid of the knowledge, afraid to know without a doubt that Harry was dead, and then knocked. She swallowed hard, and waited, listening for an answer. When none came, she knocked again, and again there was no response.

"Tom!" she cried out. "I know you're in there, answer me!" But did she know he was in there? Not really. He could be outside the shack, for all she knew. Or in one of the other rooms.

With a sigh, Ginny turned. The room across the hall was the bathroom, but there was a room beside it she hadn't seen since Tom had taken over the shack. Harry had used it as a sort of shrine to their past, with newspaper clippings and Quidditch uniforms and letters from parents who wanted to thank Harry for protecting their children in the final battle against Lord Voldemort. It was likely Tom had gotten rid of everything, so she had no idea what was in there now. She hadn't been brave enough to look inside, to confirm her fear that all those precious memories were thrown out. Before, she would much rather go on with the comforting game of pretend that it was all still in there, but now…

There was no other choice. She _had_ to find Tom.

Hurriedly, Ginny stumbled to the door and pushed it open. She was right, it was all gone. In it's place were shelves and shelves of books. There was a single red chair at one end of the room, but there was no occupant. Tom was not in here.

Ginny could feel panic filling her being. Tom wasn't in his room, the bathroom, the library, her room….he was either downstairs, or gone. Or…

Ginny turned and looked at the room opposite her, down the hall. The doorknob was bronze and still perfect, unmarred by constant turning. This was a guest room, the first room she'd knocked on while searching for Tom's room all those days ago. It was furnished by Tom as well, but left empty. She couldn't think of a reason Tom Riddle would be inside, but she had to look. She had to look everywhere.

She ran to the door, turned the knob, threw the door open, and gagged.

A horrific, putrid smell escaped the room as the door swung back on it's hinges. It was both metallic and sweet, with a strong top note of something like charcoal. Like someone had burned a roast in a copper pan, and then let it sit for a few days. The smell made her eyes water and her stomach clench. When she looked in the room, she had to fight back the urge to vomit.

The room was still furnished, neat and orderly …except lying across the bed was a figure draped in a white sheet.

It took Ginny a moment to realize that she was sobbing. When she did, she felt the ache of her shoulders as they shook, the pain in her chest as her body attempted to resist the sobs, the agony in her throat as the sobs ripped through it anyway. She knew who was under that sheet. She knew, but she also knew that she had to see. She had to know for absolute certain that under that sheet was…

She filled her tired, aching lungs with a measured, deep breath, and then slowly took a step forward. Forcing the next step was pure hell, but she managed it. The next felt impossible and she stood there, staring wide-eyed at the sheet for nearly five minutes, but then carefully, she took another step. This carried on until she was beside the figure, ten minutes later. Her heart was beating so hard and quick she thought it might burst – and half hoped it would – and she lifted a shaking hand to the edge of the sheet. And then, as quick as her movements had previously been slow, she threw the sheet back.

The body was blackened as though it had been barbequed on the flames for far too long, but still she knew it. She knew the curve of it's remaining lips, the arch of what was left of it's nose, the hairline despite there being little hair left. She recognized the remains of the clothes. She knew those shoes. And if all that wasn't enough proof, a pair of broken glasses still hung in a charred pocket.

Harry Potter was dead.

Harry Potter was dead, burnt alive.

Harry Potter was _dead, bunt alive_ and had been murdered by _Tom Riddle._

She didn't remember making the decision to scream, but still a wordless shriek echoed against the walls, a wail of such extreme terror and terrible anguish and intense grief that if it had been coming from someone else, her heart would have broken for them. But it wasn't someone else. It was her. And she wasn't sure she had a heart anymore.

She found herself running down the staircase, stumbling over nearly every step down to the entryway. She ran into the livingroom, looked around, and there – there he was, in a nice suit with burn marks on his hands, looking down at a roaring fire in the fireplace. It was cruel.

"_**YOU KILLED HIM**__!_" The words ripped through her throat as she rushed forward. Ignoring his own wounds, she began to slam her fists against his chest, hoping to cause him much more harm. "You killed him! You **murdered** my Harry, you _fucking _bastard, I hope you die, I hope you suffer and die! I hope you burn alive just like he did, you worthless, pathetic, _weak _bastard! You don't deserve life – he did! I HOPE YOU _ROT_!"

She was barely aware enough to hope he didn't think her sobs showed weakness. Her whole mind was aflame with rage, she was seeing red and all she could think of was _blood_, _blood, she had to see his blood._

Tom made no reply as Ginny stood, screaming, tearing at his clothes and his skin with her nails, repeating, "You killed him, you killed him, I hate you, you killed him!"

He didn't reach for her wrists to stop her from hitting him, didn't take her by the shoulders and push her away, didn't grab her hair and pull her to the ground. Tom Riddle stood calmly, composed as Ginny ripped his shirt and his torso. Finally, he spoke in quiet tones, his voice almost melodious.

"What, exactly, makes you think such things of me, Ginevra? Why do I believe that _I _have killed Harry Potter, without so much as a trial?"

Ginny stopped hitting him and blinked up at his face, but still pushed her long nails into his chest with all her strength, reveling in the peeling flesh, hoping still for blood. "You hated Harry! You hated him and threatened him over and over and over again! And you must have been _so angry_ when you found out that I had escaped…"

"I did not even know you were gone when I tried to save him."

"When you – _what?_" It was a trick. It had to be.

"I can show you, dear Ginevra. I can show you what happened."

Ginny's hands dropped to her sides. The anger was leaving her too quickly, she needed it to sustain her. But she was so swiftly becoming numb, cold and numb and heartless and…and nothingness. Was this was it was like to be an Inferi? "Why?"

"Don't you wish to know the truth?"

Shaking, Ginny nodded her head. She didn't feel real. Nothing felt real. It was like she was watching a play in her head, or a dream. She felt as detached as though she were watching a dream.

Tom immediately walked past her, moving quickly to the entryway. Ginny struggled to follow, her bruised and burned body filled with excruciating pain, but the physical dulled to nearly nothing when in comparison to the emotional.

He headed up the stairs and Ginny clumsily followed him until he made it to his room. He turned the handle – it was unlocked the whole time, it seemed – and headed inside. The room was still cluttered, except for the table which held only one thing: a pensieve.

Tom turned to face her. "Are you ready to see what happened to your dear Harry Potter?"

Ginny felt rage boil inside her to hot she had to choke back the bile that rose in her throat, but she nodded. Tom gestured to the pensieve, and Ginny moved forward towards it. Beside the basin was a vial of silvery liquid, and Ginny released it into the moving fluid of the basin.

With a quick, distrustful look at Tom as he took her by the hand, and they both plunged into the pensieve.

Everything was dark, save for the thousands of white stars in the black sky.

When they arrived to the garden beside the Burrow, Ginny took a detached look at the building. She knew she ought to feel some form of sadness, some ache for the loss of her childhood home, but there was nothing left in her to mourn bits of wood and cloth. So what if it was gone, turned to ashes? So was Harry. So was she.

Tom stood beside her – the real Tom, not the memory one – and his face was pale against the night sky. It was then she realized she was on the ground, her legs having collapsed beneath her. She stood, and as she did so she noticed Tom pointing skyward. She looked up, and saw a figure on a broom, though it was so high up she was unable to see who the rider was.

"I will be completely honest with you, just for this one time," Tom promised. "The man on the broom is me. I was searching this whole part of the country, flying from here to Hades' home, to where he found you in the boat and back."

"Why?" Her mouth moved and words came out, but she put no thought into her words. She was working automatically, like a Muggle clockwork doll her father had given her when she was little.

Tom's dark gaze didn't move from his memory self. It suddenly occurred to Ginny the possible nostalgia of their situation. "I was looking for Hades," Tom responded, "He had threatened your family, and I would not stand for him to act on his own, without my permission. I intended to stop him."

"How?"

"I was going to kill him, of course."

Ginny wasn't sure how to respond, but a moment later it didn't matter. A booming sound filled her ears, and a large wave of heat crashed over her. It wasn't real heat, but rather the sort of heat she felt in dreams. She felt it and knew it was hot, but it couldn't hurt her.

She turned her head in time to see the Burrow swallowed by flames.

Fire was everywhere she looked. Flames licked the sky as fire ate the roof, and at nearly every window of the house she could see an orange glow. Even the grounds around the house were filled with hungry flames, eating away at the flower bushes and the gnomeholes. Sparks landed in a nearby tree and threatened to set it aflame as well. The top and bottom of the house were the worst, however. While the flames rose ten feet high at the top of the house, the bottom level was filled with orange and yellow and smoke as black as ink.

In a second, Ginny saw the blurred shape of a figure drop from the sky, and as it landed it dropped it's broom, and darted into the house.

"How did the fire start?" Ginny asked, her voice even.

Tom began for the door, motioning for Ginny to follow him. "I don't know. I only saw what you did."

Ginny followed Tom into the Burrow.

Inside was hell. Flames consumed the overturned kitchen table and already she noticed two of the chairs missing and a pile of ashes in their places. She felt sure that the living room was filled with even more fire and ashes of things that were once previous to her, but she couldn't see that far ahead of her. The kitchen was so filled with black smoke, she began to cough as soon as she walked inside, despite not feeling the burning in her throat that would cause that reaction. Her body reacted anyway.

Memory Tom looked about the room, his wand at the ready in one hand, a white handkerchief covering his nose and mouth with the other. He knelt to the floor, trying to see through the smoke.

"I was looking for signs of Hades when I saw…"

"Saw what?"

Tom impatiently raised a hand, signaling her to watch. She turned in time to see Memory Tom's eyes widen. He dropped the handkerchief, jumped to his feet, and raised his wand to the half-burned dining room table. Then he hesitated, lowering the wand half an inch. A smirk began to form on his quickly reddening face. Then, it disappeared and he murmured a spell, and flung his arm. The table flew across the room, smashing to pieces against a wall. Now Ginny could see what Tom had. On the floor where the table had been was Harry, coughing as he struggled for his glasses. His clothes were blackened, and his scar disappeared under dark red skin, but he seemed unharmed otherwise.

Finally getting his glasses on his face, Harry Potter looked up at his rescuer – then reached for his wand in his robes. Apparently it wasn't there because he clumsily tried to push himself away from Tom, sputtering.

"I-you-you-you-"

"_I, I, I,_" Memory Tom mocked. "I saved your life, the least you could do is give me proper thanks."

"Why did you save me?" Harry demanded to know as he carefully got to his feet.

Tom sighed loud enough to be heard over the roaring of the fire. "If you died now, Ginevra would be destroyed. There is no reason to hold the ghost of a woman hostage."

A flash of hatred crossed Harry's face, and less then a second later, a flash of sickened terror. "Ginny!" He turned and attempted to run, but fell with a cry after a single step. He looked down and saw his foot, and Ginny looked, too. His left foot was exposed, his shoe having been burnt away. His foot was almost entirely black, and slowly oozed blood from every pore. Harry screamed, but it was short, cut off early by choking. Memory Tom moved, raising his wand over Harry.

Before Tom could do anything, Harry yelled, "You have to save Ginny!"

Tom sneered. "Ginevra is perfectly safe, I assure you."

"No – no, she's not!" Harry yelled. He gagged on smoke, rolled onto his stomach and vomited something yellow and thick. "She escaped, she's upstairs, quick!"

"Where?" Tom demanded, a note of urgency in his voice like she'd never heard from him before.

"Her room!"

As Memory Tom jumped over Harry and the world disappeared around them only to reform as her bedroom, Tom narrated, "I will freely admit that I doubted very much that Harry Potter could walk out of this place without assistance. However…you were much more important then that boy."

The door to her bedroom was cracked open, but a bit of the floor above had crashed down around it. It took Memory Tom some time to spell everything out of the way, and push the door open wide enough that he could get inside. He quickly scanned the room, and then spotted the mirror. The ceiling collapsing had caused damage to the vanity, though it wasn't on fire. The wood was dulled though, a leg collapsed, and the mirror was cracked from one side to the other.

"'The mirror crack'd from side to side,'" Tom began beside her.

"' "The curse has come upon me" cried the Lady of Shalott," Ginny finished automatically.

As they watched Memory Tom spin in circles frantically, searching the rubble for Ginny, the real Tom sighed. "I was worried, briefly, that a curse really had befallen you."

Finally, Memory Tom caught a glimpse of Ginny's red hand sticking out from beneath a pile of burning wood. Ginny realized with a shock – perhaps it was a good sign she could still feel a shock – that she ought to have been baked alive. But Tom seemed determined to rescue her…so much that he briefly forgot his wand. It fell to the floor noiselessly when Tom spotted her hand, and he rushed forward to pull the burning wood off of her still body.

Tom glanced out of the sides of his eyes at Ginny. "Aren't you going to ask me why I didn't use my wand?"

"No."

There was nothing else Ginny wanted to say, and Tom seemed satisfied with her answer.

Ginny's body was uncovered, and the flames that were attached to the skin of her hands were put out by Tom's hands. Her hands were nearly black, and the rest of her skin was bright red and blistered with only scraps of clothing left to cover it. She wasn't sure if she ought to feel embarrassed that her top half was exposed, but she couldn't bring herself to care. Memory Tom didn't seem to care either. As soon as she was free, Memory Tom looked around the room, spotted his wand on the floor and grabbed it. With a violent wave of his arm, the door flew from it's hinges, flying up the stairs and out of the way. Memory Tom first checked her pulse and breathing, and then grabbed Ginny, and carried her in his arms as a groom would carry his bride. He ran out of the room, and down the stairs.

The scenery melted together again, and then Memory Tom stood outside the house in what ought to have been darkness beneath the tree, but the area was lit by the house. He was bent over her body, his ear pressed against her bright red lips, listening for her breathing. He checked her burns, and felt for her pulse. Then he stood, took his wand from where it had been resting in the grass, and turned towards the front door. It was now a wall of fire. The entire front of the house was engulfed in flames. Still, Memory Tom began charging towards it.

The real Tom stood beside Ginny once more as they watched the scene unfold, as though these were other people, merely actors on a stage. "I was going to go in and save your precious Potter, however…"

A black figure emerged from the wall of fire. They were close enough to see his skin still bubbling. Close enough to see Harry fall into Memory Tom's arms. Close enough to see the moment he stopped breathing as he fell to the ground. Close enough to see the layer of black skin still left on Memory Tom's arms.

And then the scenery changed again, and Ginny felt a sensation like being pulled up and up and up…

They were back in Tom's bedroom at the shack, the memory having run its course.

Ginny turned and ran out of the room, and didn't stop until her hips hit the sink counter. She turned, threw the lid to the toilet open, and began to choke on bile.

She felt more then heard Tom kneel behind her, felt his hands move her long red hair back and hold it at the nape of her neck.

Ginny heaved at his touch, and finally a thick yellow fluid burned its way up her throat and out of her mouth. It was bitter and acidic, and her stomach hurt from the effort of pushing it out of her body. But still more came, though she wasn't sure how as she hadn't eaten since…well, she couldn't remember when she'd eaten last.

Tom's long fingers moved slowly up and down the length of her back, from her waist to her neck and across her shoulders like a cross. It was soothing, some small part of her mind admitted. It helped her choke back the vomit and the sobs and gave her the strength to fall back against him, rather then emptying her stomach of it's digestive acids.

Tom let her lay against his body for a minute, now allowing his fingers to twist her hair and run up and down her exposed arm. She felt his breathing, steady as a beat, and matched hers to his so it would stop catching in her raw throat, her throat that was burning from hot smoke followed by tearing sobs, followed by acid. And now it ached as she fought the urge to cry. She couldn't remember a time her throat had hurt so much.

Gently, Tom took her by the arms and pushed her up to her feet carefully. He closed and flushed the toilet, washed his hands, then took a washcloth and soaked it in warm water, then rung it out. He used it to wipe Ginny's still, blank face. Then he dropped it in the hamper, took Ginny by the hand and led her out of the bathroom, down the stairs and into the living room. He sat her on the couch, and disappeared upstairs. When he returned, he held a familiar quilt in his hands. It was red with golden threads, and had been on her bed when Harry lived here. When Harry lived.

He wrapped the blanket around her shoulders, and then took a seat beside her.

"I ought to treat you for shock," he said, his voice soft. It reminded her of the voice he'd used the day he'd tried to seduce her, only now instead of honeyed poison it sounded genuine and…and _tender_, though only distantly so. His acting had much improved.

Tom made no move to treat her for shock, and instead leaned closer to her. She knew she should have moved away, but she couldn't find the energy to do so. He looked deep into her eyes for nearly a full minute, watching for something though she didn't know what for. He didn't seem to find it, and leaned away with a disappointed sigh.

"I brought Harry Potter's body back with you, because I knew you would want to grieve. I also knew _his _wishes would be important to you, and he would wish to have his remains buried near his parents, rather then left to rot outside the ashes of the Burrow."

His voice was gentle, almost sympathetic though his words held no pity in them, no sense of kindness. Tom Riddle was clearly _trying _to be comforting, but having no experience and nor empathy, he was failing. He seemed to know this, and again looked in Ginny's eyes. Instead of looking for something, they seemed to be attempting to _give _her something, some form of comfort, some hope. They were as warm as she'd ever seen them, though still not as warm as Harry's had been even when angered. Still, they echoed sympathy and remorse, though empty remorse. He clearly did not regret the loss of his rival, but there was something else it looked like he regretted terribly.

Tom's eyes looked deep into her soul, and in a near whisper in a voice as genuine and human as she'd ever heard from him, he murmured, "Even being nothing more than broken pieces of soul, I knew the damage, the agony Harry's death would cause you. I knew it would leave you as broken metaphorically as I am literally." He paused, and after a moment the ghost of a smirk danced on his pink lips. "And then how would I convince you to love me?"

Ginny felt a twinge of surprise in her chest when she realized that the only part of his speech that sounded like a lie was the last bit. Could it be possible that he was actually concerned for her? Actually and truly _concerned _for her well-being, with no selfish motive? It seemed impossible, but Ginny felt that it was the truth. His words were cold, but his voice and eyes were warm and…could it be?...sad. Sad for her, for the near unbearable, excruciating anguish that filled her with so much grief her only chance of survival was to become a numb thing.

His words said that he didn't want her to be broken because it meant he would lose the chance to possess her love. His eyes said that he didn't want her to be as broken as he was.

Was it true? Was Tom Riddle saddened by her situation for no reason other than it hurt her? Was he unselfishly regretful of Harry Potter's death, for her sake?

It seemed that the potion may have worked, after all.

As Ginny stared at Tom's face, it began to blur. It took her a moment to realize the reason for that was because tears were beginning to fill her eyes. Tom's image began to shake as her shoulders shook, and she gasped for air as she choked on sobs. Tom's changes forgotten, all Ginny could think of now was Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, laying upstairs as a lifeless, cooked corpse. The blackened skin and the parts of his body no longer covered by skin filled her eyes, the almost unrecognizable face, the bits of skull revealed by the lack of skin and hair. The sweet and burnt smell of Harry's rotting flesh filled her nostrils and suddenly she was literally blinded with grief, unable to see anything but a swirling, suffocating darkness.

She felt Tom's arms surround her and she leaned into his embrace. His arms wrapped tight around her body, painfully tight. But that was exactly what she needed, she needed to feel someone solid and living beside her, someone touching her and holding her and reassuring her that she was not alone, drowning in this darkness.

He held Ginny tight enough that she felt her back pop, and the burns on her back ached with pain at the pressure, but still she pressed herself further into Tom's arms. She pushed her face into his chest, in the place where her nails had left marks, and she cried. 'Cry' was a weak word, but so was 'howling sobs'. 'Lamenting', perhaps, was better. Violent lamentation, filled with choked sobbing and hoarse screaming, shaking and writhing. Her chest felt aflame with pain, as though it were poked by thousands of burning needles. She felt as though she were dying, but Tom's grip on her was firm. When her body settled into one position, she felt his fingers in her hair, first brushing it back from her tear-soaked face, then running through the strands comfortingly. His other hand was on her back, moving slowly up and down her spine as he whispered in her ear. His whispering was soft and soothing, though wordless. He sushed and sighed but didn't seem to be trying to convince her not to cry. He never said 'calm down' or 'stop crying', never lied and said it would be alright. He merely made comforting sounds in sweet, mild tones, and rocked her back and forth as she screamed into his chest.

And so Ginevra Weasley accepted comfort from Tom Riddle, not because she liked him, but because he was the only comfort offered her now, and without comfort she would die.

It was hours before she lost her voice, and still more hours until she had spent every bit of energy she had in her broken body and eventually slipped into a more comforting darkness.

Ginny slept in Tom's arms.

* * *

**Artificial:** I'm sure you could tell where I stopped writing for a long time and where I forced myself to write through my depression, but hey, at least it's done! Please let me know how you liked this chapter, this was a BIG one for me and I'm really anxious to see what you guys thought of it. Feedback is very important to me! Also, please let me know if you think I should change the rating. This is about as graphic as it gets (I think) but I'm still uncertain about ratings. Other then that, I hope you liked the chapter, and please (please, please!) leave a review.


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